“Nice jersey.”
Cindy Trollinger looked for the voice. Her eyes eventually landed on a tall, handsome man seated in the JING Denver reception area, waiting for his takeout order.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, initially dismissing the stranger.
Nice jersey? Ha! Her hair was a mess. She smelled like her granddaughter. Cindy had pulled Demaryius Thomas’ No. 88 from the closet at the last second, a fashion Hail Mary on the way to Grandma duties. She’d never intended to be out in public. She sure as heck didn’t think she’d be hopping over to JING for Happy Hour.