I grabbed my bag and ran out to my car with no time to spare. By the time I made it to the actual field, it was five minutes after two. I wasn't quite sure where to go and stood looking around the inner stadium admiring the size. My research told me the stadium, built three years ago, held twenty-five thousand people. There was a separate college stadium on the campus that doubled as a football field and held five thousand spectators. The Slam's single functioning stadium had one rival in the U.S.Vegas' Sam Boyd Stadium. That one held just under thirty-seven thousand seats.

"I'm sure Van wants you front and center."

Having no idea anyone was behind me, I jumped. Turning quickly, I squinted into the shadowed tunnel. Joel stood two feet away. If I thought he looked large leaning against his vehicle, having him up close turned him into a giant.

Not surprising, the tone of his words and demeanor weren't exactly friendly. It took everything I had to try breaking the ice and giving him a semi-fake grin. "I'm not quite sure where front and center is located."

"Figures." That was it. He jogged past me without another word.

The jerk.

I followed at a quick walk. Thankfully Van turned and waved me over to where he stood with several men that now included his brother. When I reached Van, he looped his arm around my waist and pulled me uncomfortably close.

"I'd like everyone to meet Cami. She's the reporter doing the series on The Slam as we grind our way to the championship."

The player closest to me on my right stuck his hand out allowing me to step away from Van's inappropriate embrace. I had my attention on Todd as he introduced himself, but I couldn't help noticing Joel's glacial eyes. One by one, the players told me who they were. When it came to Joel he didn't stick his hand out, purposely making me more uncomfortable than I already was.

After giving me a quick glance, he turned to his brother. "We need to get this practice started. Do you think with your lady friend here you'll be able to concentrate?"

Lady friend? God he was a double jerk.

"Yeah, bro, we have hard work ahead of us and I'm not wasting time. Cami's here to give us needed publicity, or have you forgotten?" Van turned to me. "Stand here on the sidelines and when we have a break I'll come over and spend a few minutes explaining what's happening." He didn't sound happy about his brother's rudeness.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." For once I was happy with Van's attitude, but only for a second. Everyone but Van started walking out to centerfield. He stepped closer and I took a step back, raising my hand. "You're crossing the line again, Van." His touchy-feely behavior needed to stop, and thankfully wild Cami stayed buried.

A blank look appeared on his face.

He had to be kidding me. "Your hand around my waist." I let that sink in before I continued, "I'd like to appear professional in front of your teammates."

He pouted like a little boy. "Sorry, babe, habit."

"Babe, really." Where was my bitchiness coming from and where had shy Cami gone? A flash of irritation crossed his face, but if I wasn't watching closely I'd have missed it.

His pouty grin came back. "I apologize, Cami. Hands to myself during practice, I promise."

He turned and ran out to his teammates, totally missing my point. I wanted him keeping his hands to himself all the time, and the "babe" and "baby" comments were over the top and completely unprofessional. It took a few deep breaths to shake off my negative thoughts before I could start watching practice.

The team warmed up first as a group. They all wore shorts, which I'd discovered through my research was the staple of a rugby uniform. The shorts also showed off powerful legs. I, for some reason, expected all the players to be clean cut like Van and Joel. I guess I hadn't looked close enough at the pictures of the other players when I had the chance. It was surprising to see a mix of shaggy long hair, beards, and closely cropped heads. Their age gave me another revelation. The players' ages ranged from somewhere between twenty and forty.

After warm ups they broke into small groups. I watched five of them, which included Joel, form a straight line across the field, stagger their running, and toss the ball to the player beside them. The quick ball handling looked more like the toss of a basketball than anything else.

Another group started kicking the ball and it reminded me of soccer, though played with a football. Maybe I knew more about sports than I thought. Not. Throughout the many high school and college games I attended, my eyes were usually glued to hot players and not the play itself. I was such a fool back then.

I watched each group work on different aspects of using the ball. No matter how hard I fought it, my eyes went to Van or his brother. Both had confidence in everything they did on the field. Even with their size, the brothers could move. I envied them their ability to run, jump, pass, and kick the ball. I also realized it was essential to everyone that they worked together as a team. They made seamless passes moving the ball to the distant goal. Their skill amazed me.

On the first break, Van walked over, swiped up a bottled water, and took a drink before pouring the rest over his head. Oh my. His shirt plastered to every muscled line of his chest. Van flung his head back, spraying water, and smiled at me. He hooked another bottle and handed it over when he was close enough.

"What do you think?"

That he had too much muscle too close to me. "I think they combined several sports into one and called it rugby. Is it that crazy during a match?"

"Crazier, but you're getting the idea. Do you have any questions about the taxi and switch drills or the types of kicks?"

"A million."

"Then how about we go over those at dinner tonight? Take notes or whatever it is you do and I'll explain the finer points of rugby with a hot meal in front of us."

Or whatever I do. The words sounded almost condescending, but I'd put it down to Van running his butt off for the last forty-five minutes. My total inexperience with sports didn't help. Against my better judgment, I agreed, "It works for me. Thanks for the water."

"I'll pick you up at your hotel at seven." He didn't give me time to answer. He ran back on the field calling players by name and setting up additional drills.