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expensive
perfume. Fredrika “Freddie” Harris tossed her coat over an empty
chair and sank into the plush seat. She glanced around. “Where’s
Veronica?”
    “Not here yet. Neither is Mr. Sims.” The
billionaire Sims owned the team, and his daughter Veronica managed
personnel. Most people considered Veronica even scarier than
Freddie, but Estie considered it a toss-up.
    Estie lifted her binoculars, ignoring her
sister. Even though Estie preferred to watch the game in the seats
a few rows up from the field, Freddie loved her luxury, and Freddie
always got her way. As the middle child, Estie grew up in the
unenviable position of trying to please both of her strong-willed,
selfish siblings, and she still played that role, even though she
came across as the same type of bad-ass as her sister to most
outsiders.
    Freddie heaved several annoyed sighs, and
Estie lowered her binoculars. Her sister hated it when she wasn’t
the focus of everyone’s attention. “How’s Ty?”
    Freddie snorted and rolled her eyes. “Pissed
as hell, restless, and just being a total shit. Lavender gave him a
painkiller, which knocked him out for a while so I decided to come
to the game.”
    “When is he going to put a ring on her
finger?”
    “Good question. If he doesn’t do something
about it soon, I’ll have to kick his ass, or even better his
damaged knee.”
    “I’ll help. You and I are brutal
together.”
    “Don’t you forget it, little sis.” Freddie
grinned and tossed her glossy, long dark hair off her shoulders.
People said they looked like twins, but Freddie’s beauty turned
every head in the room.
    Richard was one of Freddie’s rejects, not
that Freddie kept any man for long. She was almost as bad as their
brother B.L.—Before Lavender. A real heartbreaker, that was her
sister. And while she was breaking their hearts, she busted their
balls as well. Nothing soft and sweet about Fredrika Harris.
    Hell, was there anything soft and sweet
about any of the Harris kids? They’d been raised to be strong,
smart, and ambitious, and so they were, each in their own way, and
almost to the exclusion of not taking the time to enjoy the
journey. Or so Estie believed. Yet they swept her along in their
maniacal quest to conquer the next proverbial mountain. She’d been
tagging along after them for so long she rarely thought to question
it.
    “Well, crap.” Freddie slammed her fist into
the armrest, effectively jerking Estie back to the stadium. “That
idiot, couldn’t they do better than him for a backup?”
    Brett walked off the field, fists clenched,
frustration written in every stiff movement, while the Giants
danced on his grave in the end zone.
    “What happened?”
    “He threw another interception. Haven’t you
been watching? Or are you too caught up in your wedding plans?”
    Estie rolled her eyes, unable to help
herself. “Something like that.” She avoided Freddie’s dissecting
gaze and hid her eyes behind the binocs. Brett stood on the
sideline consulting with the coaches, nodding and grimacing. His
determined expression reminded her a bit of a quarterback brother
of hers. No quit in Tyler and no quit in Brett either, even if he
did get a little beaten down. Now if only the coaches could infuse
some of Tyler’s blind luck into Brett.
    Freddie continued to mumble and cuss under
her breath about Brett, while Estie gritted her teeth and held her
tongue, ready to jump to Brett’s defense even though she wasn’t
sure why. Halftime came and went with a seven-seven tie. Nothing
much happened until Bruiser fumbled the ball on the Jacks’
twenty-two, the Giants recovered, and scored on the next drive.
    Seven-Fourteen.
    “Gunnels is so short he can’t see over his
line.” Freddie bitched as Brett took a particularly nasty sack.
    “His line isn’t in sync with him. They don’t
know what to expect like they did with Ty. They’ll figure it out.”
Estie shot back, as she grabbed a napkin and wiped the sweat ring
from her