He makes a show of zipping his lips, then pulls the bike away from the curb as I tighten my grip on him. He navigates us a few blocks away from the restaurant, then pulls to a stop outside a bar with a neon sign hanging in one of the windows that reads Faceoff. It looks like a sports bar, and although some women might expect something more upscale after Altitude, this place—unpretentious and real—speaks to me in a way fine dining never could.

“I had a feeling this might be more your style,” Declan says as he kills the bike’s engine.

The fact that he guessed that about me without my having to explain warms something deep inside my chest. I tug off the helmet and return it to him, and we walk to the door together. Declan holds it for me with a gentlemanly flourish, waving me inside.

Unlike Altitude, this bar is quiet and has far fewer people in it, which is perfectly fine with me. Maybe it’s because of my connection to hockey through my dad, but there’s something about a sports bar that’s always felt homey and comfortable to me.

“Welcome to Faceoff. Have a seat wherever you’d like.” A young male bartender who looks like a college student lifts his chin at us in greeting.

We choose a booth close to the bar to make it easier for him to pull double duty since it doesn’t look like they have a waitress on shift. “What can I get you to drink?” he asks when he arrives at the table and drops off a couple of paper menus.

“Whiskey sours?” Declan suggests, his eyes meeting mine with a knowing look that reminds me of that first night at the club. I smile and nod at him. “Two whiskey sours, then. Thanks.”

“Coming right up,” the bartender says. “Oh, and we’re on a limited menu for food tonight. Business has been slow.”

“No problem. I’m sure I can find something,” I say and pick up one of the menus to browse it. It’s mostly standard fare, burgers and chicken wings and whatnot, but I’m not complaining. I’d much rather have some comfort food like that right now than some hunk of expensive, overly-dressed-up salmon.

I watch Declan over the top of my menu as he scans his, and the urge to thank him for rescuing me from Aaron tugs at the tip of my tongue, but I hesitate because I’m not sure if I should say anything. I still don’t really know what’s going on between us, and I know this probably won’t be the last time I have some sort of interaction with Aaron so I don’t want to give Declan the wrong idea.

“What’s on your mind?” he asks without looking up at me.

“What do you mean?”