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 beforecrazy 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 my 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 jokewhen, 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 aroundplastering 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 glazedglassy 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.