“You’re joking.”
Everyone around us laughed as heat raced to my cheeks. I followed Charlie through the crowd on the familiar path to the locker room. I heard them before I saw them. Good-natured shouts and cheers had me smiling all the way until I turned the last corner.
Fuck me.
They stood in a circle, no shirts, most in under shorts or whatever you called those skin-tight white things that left nothing to the imagination. How the hell did female sports reporters stay unaffected with all the skin and muscle in a locker room?
They started chanting and making animal sounds, which made it even worse. Charlie elbowed me. “You okay?”
“They’re practically naked,” I whispered.
He roared out a laugh and half the team turned our way. Shouts of, “Hey, Charlie!” and “You here to wish us luck?” came from several of the players.
Of all the guys who would break away, Van strutted over to us. Hooking an arm around my neck, he whispered in my ear, “There’s my baby. Kiss for luck.”
He was a certified ass. I turned my face so his lips hit my cheek. He didn’t seem to notice, just turned, grabbed one of the players, and lifted him in the air with a panty-melting display of strength. Those muscular arms had been around me the evening before. I tore my eyes away and my gaze landed on Joel. The intensity in his eyes had him appearing angry. He grabbed a shirt from his locker, pulled it over his head, and walked into his office without looking back.
He was angry and I didn’t understand.
The team started jumping up and down with chants of, “Slam, Slam, Slam,” filling the room. Charlie yelled into my ear, “This will go on until the match starts. I just wanted you to see it. Do you want to visit the Crush locker room?”
“Not if I can help it. I kinda need my eardrums.” What I really wanted to do was run out of the stadium screaming. Van acted like I was one of his many female fuck buddies just happy for a small bit of attention from him. Not that he had a reason to think differently. I jumped into his bed without much persuasion on his part.
We walked out and stopped by the snack bar for drinks. Charlie ordered beer for himself and Stub while I stuck with bottled water. When we got back to our seats the stands were three-quarters full. The south stands behind the goal posts were the only place without defined red and yellow colors. Costumed fans filled those seats.
“This is crazy,” I said trying to hold back a small feeling of excitement regardless of how upset I was over Van.
“This is rugby fever,” Stub volunteered. Someone started a wave and Stub pulled me up at our turn as the entire stadium got into the game.
Charlie leaned half across Stub so he didn’t need to shout. “We’ll head down to the field when the match begins. You’ll want to watch some of the play from here and some from the sideline so you have both perspectives. Stub takes pictures for the paper. Would you like copies to use with your articles?”
I’d noticed the camera case over her shoulder. “I’d love them, thank you.”
“Stub’s The Sentinel’s official photographer. We’ve got some great shots from previous games back at the office. She sells them as a sideline complete with autographs from the players. All the proceeds go to the youth league. It’s turned into a huge boost for the little tikes and now most of their fees are covered. Van and Joel also donate heavily each year, giving us one of the best developed rugby youth leagues in the nation. The entire town got lucky the day Tally brought those boys here.”
The thought of Tally’s death made me sad. It didn’t matter how old the brothers were now, they needed a mom. I loved mine and couldn’t picture a day knowing she wasn’t a phone call away.
I looked at Charlie. “You said Tally died in a car accident about ten years ago. It must have been very hard on her sons.”
Stub started to say something, but Charlie interrupted. “Neither of those boys was ever the same.”
I glanced at Stub. She was looking over her shoulder and I wondered what she was going to say. Before I could ask, everyone in the stadium rose to their feet and started cheering as music began playing over the loudspeakers. Yellow uniforms ran onto the field and everyone clapped and cheered. Yes, everyone. It didn’t matter what color you wore. The excitement was getting under my skin and a small thrill went through me.
A few minutes later, the music changed. It was loud with pounding drums. The roar started low, building with the music. A voice yelled out from the speakers. “Ladies, grab your man, gentlemen grab her hands and keep her from mauling our hometown boys. Here they are… The Slam.”
It was corny, but the stadium went crazy as the team ran out from the tunnel. I realized the place was now packed and the deafening roar of fans almost had me covering my ears. Stub was jumping up and down higher than people six inches taller than her. The music continued as the team did chest bumps, high fives, and arm pumps to get the fans going even more.
Eventually, things quieted down for the National Anthem. The teams stood in a straight line, Joel at one end of The Slam and Van on the other. Every man from both teams sang. That alone amazed me. At the high school and college sporting events I attended, maybe one or two players bothered to move their lips. This was entirely different. Both teams belted out the words and gave patriotism a new meaning. I looked around at the fans singing loud and proud with them.
Maybe that’s when I fell in love with rugby.
Chapter Fourteen
I spent half the match in the stands and half the time on the sidelines. I remembered Charlie’s words about the Stelson brothers leaving blood behind during matches. Many players did. I saw scraped knees, bloody noses, and scratched faces. I heard the grunts and groans and saw players jump up and continue playing when I thought they would leave on a stretcher. All up close and personal from the sidelines.
Maybe too personal.
My eyes strayed to Van; I couldn’t help myself. He was a different man on that field. He wasn’t a glory hound like I expected. He passed the ball, assisted other players in tries, along with scoring two tries himself. Yes, tries, rugby’s term for scoring points when you ground the ball on the try line. It was a foreign language that I was finally getting the knack for.
I also saw the respect Joel had explained to me. Rugby was nothing like what little I knew of football. The plays didn’t stop unless there was a penalty called. There were no separate defensive or offensive teams like football. Everyone played continuously. Dirt covered their uniforms and good plays from both teams had fans on their feet.
Plenty of screaming girls and women got into it too. Van’s name along with propositions for unmentionable things rang out. I heard Joel’s name here and there. I wondered if there would be more if he didn’t have his facial scar. Even with it, he was gorgeous in my eyes. He went on a date the night before each match, but he didn’t seem to be the jackass his brother was. Again, I asked myself why I chose the other brother. Then, I had to laugh at myself. Joel showed no interest in me whatsoever, and, when we first met, he scared the crap out of me. But he’d been kind when I needed it. I definitely fell for the wrong guy.
Now my eyes strayed to Joel. He was dirty and sweaty like the other players. And, how could I not notice his laces. They were a beacon even when all the players’ feet were tangled up. He showed absolute control on the field. I couldn’t tell which brother played better, but I don’t think it mattered. Something about rugby inspired me like no other sport I’d watched before—crazy plays, blood, sweat, and dedication.
The Slam won the match thirty-four to eighteen. I was down on the field when the final whistle blew. Yellow shirted players congratulated red as the guys laughed, hugged, and slapped each other’s backs and butts. They smiled through the dirt covering their faces and waved at the fans who continued clapping and cheering.
The excitement of the moment wasn’t lost on me. I felt the thrill of victory clear to my toes. Of course that meant I was here for another week. I mentally straightened m
y spine. I came to Colt disliking sports in general and especially jocks. Or at least my zero resolve around them. Seeing the match with my own eyes, I couldn’t refute the spirit of rugby. I first thought of this assignment as a joke—when, really, I was the joke. I didn’t even have the courage to speak with my own office co-workers. I lived in a fantasy world were shy introverts became top-notch journalists. What I really did was live in a world that was all about me and my insecurities. It was past time that I got over my poor judgment when it came to men. I was the one to blame for all my decisions.
Women paid to have my breasts, the breasts I hid away because of writing on a locker room wall more than six years ago. Joel looked everyone straight in the eye even with a horrific injury to his face. I was embarrassed over something I had no control of and it was time I grew a set of balls.
“Well what did you think?” Charlie brought me out of my thoughts before I could start laughing at my analogy.
I didn’t hide a grin; a new self-awareness was making me stand taller. “Truthfully… I absolutely loved it.”
“That’s my girl.” Charlie patted me on the back. “Let’s collect Stub before she catches a nude player and does more than take a picture.”
“You’re horrible,” I said with a burst of laughter.
Charlie winked and said, “I watch that woman closely. She has a thing for large muscles. She’ll be the death of me some day, but I’ll die happy.”
For an older man, Charlie was in good shape. This was the first time I saw him in short sleeves and it was obvious he worked out. He must have been a knockout in his day.
We made our way to the locker room to find Stub. If I thought the noise was loud before the match I was wrong. Charlie and I could hear the shouts from the hallway. I walked into testosterone heaven. Stub was right in the middle of it all getting her pictures and yelling along with them.
“See what I mean?” Charlie shouted in my ear.
“You need to watch her a little more closely,” I shouted back.
“She sells the hot pics. Puts the match date and players’ names on them and they go like hot cakes. I let her get away with it as my service to the community,” he said shooting a wicked grin toward his wife.
Several players were splashing water bottles around—plastering wet shirts to hot muscle. My feminine parts were suffering masculine overload. I could only stand watching, stunned, as shirts began whipping over heads and flying around. I think subconsciously I was searching for Van, but it was Joel’s eyes I locked onto. Okay maybe not his eyes for long. I’d seen him shirtless before, but for some reason this time hit my pulse rate even harder. His shorts were off and just his underthingies covered him. No, that wasn’t exactly the truth. They molded his man parts leaving nothing to my imagination. I jerked my head up when I realized he was watching me. His eyes glazed—glassy and intense. It rocked me. Holy shit.
“Hey, Stub, time for you to leave or I’ll need to deck a couple of these guys.”
Charlie’s words jolted me out of my silent exchange with Joel. The team had lifted Stub up and was passing her around while kissing her cheeks. I had no doubt this was a common occurrence by how effortlessly she participated.
I looked around for Van, doing everything I could to avoid Joel. Movement from the back office door caught my eye as Van walked out with his arm around blondie from the bar. I guess her dye and boob jobs worked. Her hair was mussed and there was no doubt that something happened in the office. I had no wish to think about what that something was.
Van’s eyes passed over me without stopping, the chicken shit. He knew I was there, and I needed to get away. I was jealous even after staring at his brother like a starving piranha. Double damn.
The players put Stub down and she twirled dramatically until she stood in front of us, her camera strap secured around her neck. “You better get me out of here before the trunks come off or you know I’ll never leave.”
I plastered a smile on my face and started moving for the hallway. Stub was talking a mile a minute, so I didn’t need to say anything. Somehow, I had to ditch The Slam Tavern and disappear to my hotel room. There was no way I could go there to celebrate. I walked out of the stadium preplanning a breakdown. Maybe I could order a piece of apple pie to go and bury my hurt in delicious sugar. It was only ten minutes earlier that I was giving myself a pep talk and finding my balls. They shriveled as soon as I saw Van with his arm around another woman.
Chapter Fifteen
The fans were rowdy and the beer overflowing at the tavern. Charlie and Stub kept me close, and I had no chance to slip away before the team arrived. Charlie handed me a beer and I downed it quickly. It felt good to drown my sorrows. Going back on my word to never drink again was like thinking I could cast away my self-doubt because of the thrill over a ball game.
The shouts suddenly grew louder and people began cheering. The team had arrived. Fans passed beer hand to hand over heads until the players were guzzling their first glass. This went for both teams. Everyone just seemed… happy. Everyone but me. I downed the second half of my third beer like it was a shot of whiskey.
Charlie and Stub started a serious conversation with Ron and I saw my chance to get away. I turned and ran straight into Joel’s chest. God, he smelled good—clean with no dirt anywhere in sight.
He leaned in, his breath hot across my ear, “You okay?”
How could I answer that honestly? I couldn’t speak, just shook my head. He took my hand and started pulling me to the hallway that led to the bathrooms. He opened a side door and ushered me into a hallway with a couple of offices. The noise was still deafening. He pulled me inside one of the offices and shut the door behind us. It wasn’t exactly quiet, but it was much better than it was in the central room of the tavern.
I was stubborn and swore I wouldn’t cry, so I was shocked when I realized a tear was streaking down my cheek. Joel wiped it away.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said softly.
“I really just want to go back to my room and forget the past twenty-four hours ever happened.”
“You want to forget our breakfast this morning?” He sounded hurt.
My voice cracked as I said, “N-no, but everything else.”
Something passed over his features. I couldn’t read the expression. For some reason all I wanted to do was run my finger along the ridge of his scar. I was drawn to his imperfection, or at least drawn to uncover the pain he suffered.
“You look good in red,” he said in a husky voice as he pulled my shirt away from my skin just below my bra line.
He was dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt similar to mine. He looked wonderful and it didn’t help that I knew what his t-shirt covered. “Joel, I had sex with your brother last night.”
He did the last thing I expected. His fist hit the door behind my head. It wasn’t hard, but it startled me. “Don’t you think I know that?”
God, he suddenly looked so angry.
“I feel like a slut. Hell, I am one. Please don’t make this harder on me.” He was so close, and all I could do was close my eyes hoping he would be the smart one. His forehead met mine. I could smell his breath—beer, musk, unique. Fuck.
“Friends,” he said, and my eyes snapped open.
I breathed in and out a few times. It was his sincerity that had me answering, “Friends.”
He watched me for several long moments until finally he took my hand again. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“Thank you.” I turned to open the door.
Joel stopped me. “Cami?”
I slowly looked up and our eyes locked.
“Stay away from Van.” He didn’t say it gently.
“Not a problem.”
He released my hand and opened the door for me. I wove through the laughing crowd as a song started up. Everyone began singing. I’d never heard anything like it and stopped for just a moment. Joel’s large hands grasped my waist and he
moved a little to my side. He nodded his chin toward the door. Half of me wanted to be part of the after-match celebration, but the other part needed some downtime. Just before I turned to walk out, I realized Joel was blocking my line of sight. He’d done it on purpose. Van stood about ten feet away with his arms around blonde boobs and her friend. I couldn’t get out of the tavern fast enough.
Joel released me once we were outside, at least until I stumbled. “How much did you have to drink?” He took my arm and didn’t let go.
“Two or three beers. I’m pretty much sober now, it’s just my two left feet.”
I liked his laugh. I liked him holding me. We were both laughing by the time we got to my room. “Tomorrow is my only day off. I’d like to see you, as a friend,” he said before I opened the door.
Why did my heart speed up? “This isn’t a good idea. We…”
He interrupted me. “It’s a great idea. I’m not my brother. We’ll take a drive, enjoy some good food, and get to know each other.”
For some strange reason I wanted to. “No alcohol.”
His eyes went stormy. I’d said the wrong thing. “Don’t worry, not my style.” I watched him consciously unclench his jaw before continuing. “I’ll pick you up at ten-thirty tomorrow morning if that works.”
I could only nod my head and escape into my room. After leaning my back against the door for several minutes, I headed to the shower. As I rinsed off, I remembered Joel’s words about alcohol not being his thing. Was alcohol Van’s thing? Did he enjoy making girls tipsy? I shook my head. Dammit, I knew my limits. I could have said no at any time. It was the whole hot-muscled-body phenomenon that I couldn’t resist.
I didn’t exactly sleep. I tossed, turned, and berated myself for being so stupid. At nine the next morning, I decided to call Joel and cancel, but realized I didn’t have his cell number, only Van’s. There was no way on earth I was calling him.
After I accepted the idea I was going out with Joel today, I emailed the first installment of my series after adding a little about yesterday’s match. It began with…
Kick (Completion Series) Page 9
