Laura Adler gripped the metal bars in front of her stadium seat in frustration.

“Come on, you idiots,” she screamed. “Stop behaving like a bunch of wimps and push that line!”

The New Orleans Cougars were trashing the home team, the Milwaukee Greyhounds, 48-3, and Laura was furious. “The one day I get the firm’s season tickets, the Greys have to play like a bunch of amateurs,” she muttered to her seatmate.

“Oh, give them a break, Laura,” said Mary Sanders, a fellow associate at the law firm of Diller & Durn, S.C. She sipped on her almost empty cup of beer. “They’re playing with the second and third string. Geeesh, even the quarterback is injured.” Dressed in a pink Hello Kitty hat, scarf, jacket, snow pants, and boots, Mary looked out of place in the sea of gold and gray, the team colors, but the pink suited her dark hair and fine, porcelain skin. The woman had almost perfect features—deep blue eyes with thick black lashes, a pert little nose, and a rosy full-lipped mouth, which was now curved up into an amused smile. “Take it down a notch before someone calls security.”

Laura’s lips formed into a pout, and she pulled a thermal blanket more tightly around her already heavily clothed body. “Well, I didn’t come out here to freeze my ass off and watch them lose,” she complained. “I mean seriously, for the price of these tickets, you’d think they’d at least give us a show.” She sighed.

Mary laughed. “Sometimes, you take this game way too seriously. It’s just a game. Everyone goes home in the end.”

A large man with a yellow knit Greys hat pulled low on his forehead and a thick scarf wrapped around his face and neck settled into the seat next to Laura. He was tall and obviously muscular, but he was so bundled up, it was difficult to determine his age. Laura glanced at him quickly, then turned her attention back to the game. When the receiver fumbled, she jumped to her feet and hollered, “Oh, come on! A high schooler could do better than that!”

The man next to her stomped his feet, as if they were cold, and muttered, “Gee whiz, lady, give them a chance. They have more players on the injured list than any other team in the league.”

Laura plopped back down into her seat and shot the man a look of scorn. Then she giggled and hiccupped. “Hey, I’m no lady. I’m a lawyer.” She wasn’t tipsy, just relaxed, and any filter she normally possessed had disappeared after tailgating before the start of the game.

The man snickered. “Figures.”

At that moment, the backup quarterback for the Greys stepped out of the pocket and sent the football spiraling down the field. A running back jumped up and snatched the ball out of the air and ran for a touchdown. When he crossed the goal line, Laura again leaped to her feet, screaming with glee. “I knew you could do it!” She started to do a little celebratory dance, bumping hips with Mary.

She paid no attention to the plastic cup of beer she held in her hand as it splashed and sloshed until the man next to her leaned over and said, “Hey, lawyer lady, I’m getting wet here and not in a good way.”

Laura abruptly stopped dancing and turned to the man. Her beer had splashed all over the front of his coat. “Oh crap. I am so sorry.” She tried to dab at his coat with her mittens, but he pushed her hands away. “Dammit, I am such an idiot.” Laura dug a business card out of her fanny pack and offered it to the man. “I’ll pay for the cleaning. Send me the bill.”

He chuckled as he took the card, glanced at it, then shoved it into a pocket. “My mom will just throw it in the washing machine. She’s used to me coming home with dirty clothes. Everything I own is washable, except for my suits.”

Laura studied him. “You live with your mom?” God, she hated momma’s boys. This man looked to be in his late twenties. “You look way too old to be living with your mom.”

He snorted. “Mom lives with me and only during football season. Then she heads back to Arizona. She’s kind of a reverse snow bunny.”

Laura’s eye’s narrowed. “You play football? Pro, semi-pro, arena?” She couldn’t see much of his face except for bright blue eyes. He was not someone she recognized. The man shrugged.

“Hey, Wheezer,” a man said as he sat down on the other side of him. “Sorry, I’m late. The triplets had a poop catastrophe and I had to help with cleanup. How’s the protocol going?”

Laura’s mouth dropped open as she plopped back into her seat. “Wheezer? Wheezer Douglas? The running back? Wisconsin’s gift from God? The one who got mauled three weeks ago by the Bears?”

He held a finger to his lips and said softly, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“But why aren’t you down on the field, sitting on the bench?

“Concussion protocol says no practice, no suiting up. Hell, they even monitor me when I’m working out on a stationary bike. Sitting on the bench just makes the reality of not being able to play harder. So if I want to see the game live, I sit in the stands or in the Skybox. Otherwise, I can watch it at home on TV. I can’t see much from the Skybox and no way I’m staying home, so I decided to sit in the stands.” He shrugged, then stuck out a hand and Laura took it. “Hi, I’m Tim, a recovering running back and according to your card, you’re Laura?”