Tyson and I had a wonderful time at bowling. I sucked, which was awful for my soul, but he sucked too. Hudson was right, I was so damn competitive that having him be just as bad brought me a fair dose of joy. And when I had gotten a strike I had thrown my hands in the air and bounded over to him. His arms had wrapped around me and pulled me tight to his wide chest in a celebratory hug.

After that we progressed across the street, drank some craft beer, then I dropped him off at his car. The whole evening had been lighthearted and kind. This was the longest I had gone without seeing a wicked glimmer in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. I had to admit that it was quite a nice change.

But, I was more excited when I got ready for my outing with Hudson a couple days later. I knew that I shouldn't have. Tyson and Hudson should've been on the same playing field. They were both people I worked with and for. They were both funny and sweet when they wanted to be. And all either of them could ever be was a good friend of mine. Nothing more.

Still, knowing that I should take time for myself, that there was consequences for dating with Connor's team still on the prowl, didn't stop Hudson from being so attractive.

Maybe it was the masculine stubble. Maybe it was his soft, natural smell. Maybe it was the way his smile lit up his eyes and made my heart warm. Whatever it was, I felt like I was powerless to stop myself from being attracted to him. I felt like I was under some kind of spell when I was with him, one that made me notice only his positive attributes.

I smoothed my hand over my favorite satin blouse for the hundredth time when Hudson's orange cross over pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment. He had offered to come up, but when I glanced around my messy and tiny apartment my cheeks had burned up with just the thought of him seeing the mess. The big life I used to lead didn't exactly fit into my five hundred square foot apartment.

"Hey Princess," he greeted when I pulled open the door and slid onto the passenger seat. "You look really nice." The compliment came out the same way it would have if Jen had said it. It was just a kind gesture from a friend, but it made my heartrate increase.

"Thank you," I whispered. I was going to tell him that he looked good too. But, he was only wearing a hoodie and dark jeans. It didn't mean that he was unattractive, quite the opposite. There was something wholesome and sweet about him wearing such warm and comfy clothes, but that was only because I found him so damn attractive and not because he had put in any extra effort.

A comfortable silence fell over us as he began driving through downtown Calgary and I didn't feel the need to speak until we arrived at our destination.

"You call me a princess then take me to a place like this?" I demanded. The place before me was nothing if not a dive bar.

"I thought you hated it when I called your that. So, if you really aren't a princess you'll have no problem coming into this place with me."

I thought about arguing. It wasn't that I wanted him to call me "princess" for the rest of my life so much as I just wanted to be safe. But, chances were that we would only have a couple drinks, chat a little bit, then leave before the rowdy crowd made their way in. I would never be alone and I would never be so drunk that I was unsafe. And, honestly, maybe my pride had something to do with it too.

"Let's go," I announced, flinging my door open.

To start out with, I was the most dressed up person in the whole building. Which isn't to say that I had tried particularly hard. When I had seen myself in the mirror with my simple but soft blouse, jeans, and soft makeup I had worried that I would be too understated. That was not the case here. I was probably the only one here who had even heard of cosmetics.

"So, why are we here again?"

"Well, I figured a place like this would be the last hangout for prestigious hockey players," he pointed. "Plus, their mixed drinks are deadly and cheap."

We perched ourselves on the creaky bar stools and ordered our own drinks. Hudson got himself a mixed cocktail while I settled for a beer. I got something that matched the colour of my shirt because every time I moved the wood beneath me would groan. It was only a matter of time before the thing gave out and I didn't want to ruin my clothes with the danger being so obvious.

"So you and Tyson, hey?" Hudson began as he sucked in a long drink from his glass. He didn't even bother to look at me as he spoke.

"My God, you and him are two peas in a pod, aren't you?" I laughed, tossing my head back.

"Oh?"

"You're both so damn concerned about what I am doing with the other," I snapped. But, as the hard words left my mouth my eyes moved off an unconcerned Hudson and landed on a back that was so wide and so strong it was unmistakable. "The Wall" was laughing with two men I had never seen before, paying no attention to me, but it was enough to make my heart drop.

Dear God, not here, not again.

"I just don't like you with Tyson," Hudson ground out, his teeth clenched against each other.

"Why not?" I asked, but my eyes were still locked on the goalie. I hardly heard the words that Hudson was saying, just hoping my replies made sense.

"Why did you go from hating his guts to liking him so much?" Hudson pressed.

"Answer my question first," I demanded.

Hudson said nothing for a moment, just swirling his drink in the glass, his eyes focused on the liquid as it moved. When his focus raised, it didn't move to me, it went to a corner of the bar behind me.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll answer your question if you score higher than I do. But if I get a better score then you have to answer mine," he bargained.

"A higher score at what?"

"Darts," he said, nodding his head towards the dark corner that held his attention.

Sure enough, when I followed his gaze I saw an empty corner in the bar with dart boards. Not a single soul was in the secluded space and my back would be to the rest of the bar. All that The Wall would see was my back, my hair, and the drink in my hand.

"Let's go."