I took a cab to the airport three hours before my plane departed. Traffic was a gnarly mess even though there wasn't a ray of sunlight in the sky. Welcome to the city. I had an hour and a half to relax after checking my bag and making it through security. When I woke up that morning, I swore I would hold my head high. No shirking from eye contact. I caught myself looking down repeatedly, but with sheer willpower, I jerked my head up each time. I settled into a corner table at Starbucks with a latte, compliments of my Journal credit card. After pulling out my iPad, I continued my lessons in the foreign language of rugby. I also had my old college laptop that needed to get me through until Christmas. It would be the only Christmas item on my list for my parents this year.

I have no idea why I typed Van's name in the search engine first. It was ridiculous that I found myself attracted to him. Jock and most eligible bachelor. He and I would never happen. I could just imagine all the women throwing themselves at his smelly jock feet. Yuck.

I clicked through the list and found a grainy image of Joel that I overlooked the night before. He couldn't have been much more than a teenager when the picture was taken. The brothers could be twins. Double yuck. I continued scanning and found another photo of Van in his rugby uniform that had me taking a too large gulp from my hot cup.

That's it. I deserved a burnt tongue. Muscles, dimples, and blue eyes were no longer my thing, and my racing heart was because of my nervousness over flying. Adjusting my glasses, I started memorizing ridiculous rugby terms that made no sense. Thirty minutes before my plane departed, I clicked off my iPad and walked with my head held high to my gate.

Once I took my seat on the mid-sized crowded plane, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the screaming baby in the row behind me. I had the window seat with two men sitting next to me. We didn't talk, and I quickly fell into a coma-like sleep and made it through the first airplane ride in my life.

We landed an hour and a half later. The airport was small though it had one car rental company which was listed on my itinerary. I picked up my car for the hour long drive to Colt. From my research, I knew its population was just over fifty thousand with a medium-sized state college and absolutely nothing else to attract anyone. I refused to consider rugby an attraction of any kind. For some strange reason this was where the Stelson brothers made their home.

My hotel was a quaint inn off the highway. As I waited for the middle-aged clerk to finish up with a customer who entered before me, I timidly looked around the lobby and noticed the pictures on the wall. On closer inspection, I realized they were rugby teams and action shots of games.

"May I help you, Miss?"

I turned, immediately lowering my eyes to the tiled floor. Damn. No. I had to change the habit and make eye contact part of my muscle memory. I lifted my gaze. "I have a reservation for Cami Avesque."

He clicked away on the computer, printed out a sheet for me to sign, swiped my company credit card in case I wanted to order something to the room, and handed over a key card.

Before I walked away, I shrugged another bit of timidity aside. "Is there a picture of the current rugby team anywhere?"

"You want the college team or The Slam?"

Such a stupid name. "The Slam, please."

He showed me the current pictures as he continued talking. "The Slam Tavern is next door and a great place to eat. If you go down another block and turn left, the stadium is about a mile from the main road. Playoff match this Saturday. Practically the entire town hits the home matches, but let me know if you want a ticket. I have a few connections."

"Thank you, I'll do that." I gave him a small smile. I didn't bother telling him I'd be there front and center, because that would require more conversation. I also didn't tell him that the last thing I wanted was to witness a bunch of grown men roll around in the dirt and act like little boys. I turned back to the team pictures after he returned to the desk. I spotted Van's easy grin right away. He stood in the middle of his teammates with his arm thrown over the shoulder of another man. I leaned in closer to the picture. The other man's face showed a long scar running from under his eye to his mouth, which pulled in his upper lip slightly. The other side of his face was the perfect replica of his brother's. The unknown story behind the scar had me staring at Joel Stelson for several minutes. He was larger than his brother, his eyes more serious. A wave of regret rolled over me and then I mentally shook myself. Joel had dumb, muscle-bound jock written all over him regardless of the scar. I walked away, found my room, and sent a text to Van, whose number was the only contact on my schedule. I sincerely hoped he was at least semi-intelligent.

Me: This is Cami Avesque with the Cleveland News and Journal. I'm in my hotel room and wanted to confirm our morning appointment.

I began hanging up my clothes so the wrinkles could mostly fall out. The soft ping of my phone sounded.

Van: Tomorrow morning 7 stadium locker room.

That was it.

Okay then.

I was hungry and after looking at the local restaurant guide, I decided to walk to The Slam Tavern to see if I could order a salad. The name of the place didn't leave any real hope that they'd have healthy food, but it was close and worth a try.

I nervously glanced around the dark interior. Before I could leave, a female shout came from the back. "Grab a menu and seat yourself. I'll be with you in a sec."

A stack of laminated menus rested on the counter by the door. I picked up the top one and quickly found the salads. Maybe this would work. My stomach ached with hunger, so I walked to the far corner and took a seat after placing my scrap bag down beside me in the booth. I pulled my iPad from my bag and switched it on, relieved to have a little extra light.

Before I could click into my email, the waitress arrived with a glass of water.

"Sorry, hun, I'm it out front tonight, but the cook's in the back if you're hungry. I'm Estella by the way. Haven't seen you around. Welcome to Colt and The Slam Tavern. My feet are killing me and my back hurts, but that's age catching up with me. My youngest just had her second baby and now I have four grandchildren. I'll tell you that makes me feel older. What can I get you to drink?"

Estella was in her mid to late fifties. She had laugh lines around her eyes like my mom's. I relaxed for the first time since waking up this morning. She was one of those special people who shy people loved. She talked your ear off without waiting for acknowledgment.

"Could you recommend a red wine?" I asked hopefully.

Her lips twitched before she threw back her head and laughed- loudly. A little too loudly if you asked me. I glanced around. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see two men at the bar and they were looking my way.