Page 28 of Puck Me Twice

Something hurtles toward me, and I shriek and duck, covering my head with my hands. I used to play lacrosse, but that was with heavy padding, a mouth and face guard, and a stick to protect me. I’m not used to things flying at me anymore.

“Rupert,” Sven says sharply.

Shit. He sounds pissed.

Did he throw⁠—

There’s a flapping noise above me. And as I uncover my head, I find the wide wingspan of a gray bird hovering above me. It’s about the size of a football, maybe a little longer, with a shocking crimson tail. Beady golden eyes are focused on me.

“Good girl,” the bird caws. “Good baby girl.”

It talks?!

“Rupert, come,” Sven demands.

And to my surprise, the bird flies over to him, perching on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Sven says to me. His accent is stronger in the mornings. “She’s not used to strangers.”

“She?”

“This is Rupert.” Reaching upward, he runs a finger along the bird’s dark beak, and it nuzzles the appendage. “She gets pretty free range inside. If she makes you uncomfortable, I can put her in the pen.”

“No, it’s fine,” I manage. “I just wasn’t expecting the attack.”

“Good girl,” the parrot squawks. “Rupert, good girl.”

“Yes, you’re my good girl,” he murmurs to the bird, who rubs her beak against his cheek.

Damn it. I want him to call me his good girl.

How the fuck am I getting jealous of a goddamn bird?

“Rupert is a girl?”

He nods. “The previous owner didn’t know until she laid an egg. They were quite surprised.”

“Are there any more birds flying around here I should be aware of?”

He shakes his head, and Rupert squawks again and nibbles on his ear.

It’s only then that I realize he is in the middle of cooking. There’s a carton of eggs, some vegetables chopped in small ramekins, and what smells like fresh bread baking.

“Good morning,” he says conversationally. “How do you like your eggs?”

I blink.

“You’re making eggs?”

Confused, he nods.

“With a bird on your shoulder?”

Sven quirks a smile. “Well, they weren’t hers. They’re from the store.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“She eats them, too.” He shrugs, and Ruperts lets out a grumbly squawk at her perch moving beneath her feet. I see the way her talons grip into his shoulder and he winces.