Tad chuckles, then tells me about the time he had tickets for a Toronto home game against Boston but then got stuck in an elevator in midtown. It’s a pretty good story, and I’m a good listener. But as he’s telling me how he used his cell phone to call the building security, I suddenly feel it! A flush spreads across my chest, and everything starts to tingle. I feel myself smile a little wider. I sense something important happening…
“Hottie.”
I jump three inches in my seat, and my forearm knocks over the dregs of my coffee. I flail for the napkin but it goes sailing off the table.
Two seconds later, Matt Eriksson has retrieved my napkin and dropped it tidily onto the modest puddle of spilled coffee. Leaping to my feet, I take him in. In sweatpants and a Toronto jacket, he must have just
