Luke Weston “The Broncos need to win this,” he said after walking out of the kitchen with his fifth bottle of Heineken. He sat back down beside me...on the sofa. “They probably won’t,” I told him. “Cam ain’t no joke this season, man.” “True but Denver got that topnotch defense. There won’t be too many touchdowns tonight, so it’s gonna come down to defense.” He took a sip from his beer and burped. “I got mad respect for Cam but tonight ain’t his night. You a Panthers fan?” “Not really but I’ve. ‘You’re right, that is refreshing,’ he replied, smiling against her chilled skin. Only a small, throaty laugh was Faith’s response and he sensed she was hoping for more. Her eyes of love sparkled at him. Bill made a return trip to the stream and pulled off his shirt, sank it in the icy water and sponged his sweaty torso. Goosebumps dappled his skin. After spreading the tee shirt out on a rock to dry, he recharged the sweatshirt with fresh water and walked back to Faith. She waited, smiling. More

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