Kick (Completion Series) (6 page)

S

I only had time for a quick response.

Skylar,

Thanks for reaching out. I’m in way over my head, but please keep that between us. I’ll write back when I have more time. I hope you’re feeling good and doing as the doctor ordered.

Cami

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.”

H
aving 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, t
he 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.

A
nother 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 set
ting up additional drills.

The sun was hot and
I sipped my water until it was gone. I had no idea how long they practiced, but I needed a few hours before dinner to begin typing notes from my recorder. My first article was due Sunday morning. I wanted it ready and only needing a line or two added after the final score of the match.

I left the field while the team was practicing the jumping lift thing I’d seen in a few videos. My room was nice and cool.
I finished typing my notes by six and took a shower in preparation for dinner.

With limited options, I decided on
comfortable jeans and a loose, dark blue top. I wore flat shoes because they were steady. I don’t know why I put on a little more makeup than usual. God, now I was lying to myself. I knew exactly why I added the extra makeup and his name was a three-letter word.

Van knocked on my door at seven
. He held a vase of yellow daisies and had a slight blush on his cheeks. What Van was this? I would bet a paycheck the man never blushed in his life.

“They reminded me of you,” he sai
d as I stood at the door unsure of what to say. “I knew you wouldn’t have a vase here so they come with their own.”

I finally found my voice. “They’re beautiful
, but this isn’t a date, Van.” Where my shyness disappeared to I had no idea.

H
e gave me his pouty face. “No, it’s an apology for how I acted earlier today.” His eyes looked so sincere.

I wondered which
inappropriate behavior he spoke of, but decided not to ask. I took the flowers and sat them on the dresser. “So where am I taking you for dinner?” He tried taking a step closer, but I deftly moved around him.

He gave a loud, dramatic sigh.
“At least I can look forward to the arm wrestling since calling you “babe” and putting my hands on you is off limits.”

He was smarter than he looked and smoother than I could handle
. For some reason I couldn’t help laughing. I put out my arm and flexed. “You want a piece of this, huh?”

He tapped my bicep with the tip of two fingers
. “I didn’t know what I was up against, and I’ll need to work out extra hard if I want a chance of taking you.”

He was such a bad boy. Sweet and innocent
one minute, sexual and calculating the next. My inexperience at handling flirting was evident to me. The straightforward
keep your hands off
approach I somehow pulled out despite my shyness seemed to work best. Maybe it would get easier.

Van
walked me out and kept his hands to himself. He stopped at a Range Rover. Through my classified work at the newspaper, I knew exactly what I was sitting down in. Holy shit, this baby cost almost 200k. I wouldn’t make this much money in five years. The electronics alone were amazing.

“Like it?”

I had to keep myself from kissing the leather. “How could I not? She’s beautiful.”

The corner of his lips tilted up. “She?”

“Well Carmen, my car, is a she, so it’s habit.”

He chuckled. “What type of car is Carmen?”

This would show the exact difference in our worlds. “A 1999 Ford Focus.”

He didn’t bat an eye at
her age or model. “Named Carmen?”

“Yes. She’s reliable and gets me from point ‘a’ to point ‘b’. I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s gone. They don’t make
’em like her anymore.”

He revved the engine. “No, they make
them much better.”

If you could afford it
, I thought to myself. I wasn’t in a sports car, but I felt the power of the engine. Unlike in Carmen, the traffic noise from outside didn’t invade the inner sanctuary, and if the road was bumpy, I couldn’t tell.

Van
hadn’t answered my question about where we were going. And very unusual given my normal reluctance to speak, the quiet in the car was getting to me. “Besides the wonder of rugby, what does Colt, Ohio, have to offer?” I asked as a way to start some kind of conversation. His scent was also activating my inner thigh girl parts again, and I really wanted to keep my panties dry. Heat flooded my face and I hoped he wouldn’t notice.

Van
gave me a searing glance before turning back to the road. “The only thing more wonderful than rugby is sex. And don’t get all defensive with me either. It’s an honest answer.”

Dammit, so much for wishful thinking.
“With your father in Cleveland and half the year in L.A., wouldn’t you have better access to both if you lived in California?”

Without using his blinker, he turned right. “I see you did some snooping today?”

“No, well yes, but my boss was the first one who mentioned your dad. Apparently your father plays golf with the
Journal
’s owner and the two of them arranged the series of articles I’m writing.”

“Fair enough. What
else did your snooping reveal?”

I hated to mention his mother
, but he asked. “That you and Joel could have moved to California after your mother died.”

He
looked straight ahead without answering, and I felt I crossed a line. It was actually sad; I wanted a career in investigative journalism and needed to learn to cross lines. I just didn’t have it in me to hurt someone intentionally.

I was surprised when Van
finally answered, “My dad had just married his third wife. We didn’t want to leave here, and the third wife didn’t want us moving in. He arranged something that worked for everyone.”

“You love your father.”
I could hear it in his voice.

Though it wasn’t a question, he answered. “He’s my dad. You take the good with the bad and he does the same with us.”

Oh, a man thing, hard to admit to love. This didn’t surprise me. “What about your brother?” What I really wanted to ask was why his brother disliked me.

“My brother’s the serious one. Always has been. Don’t expect too much from him. He was more of a momma’s boy than me.”

“He’s got to be six four or more. I have trouble picturing him as a momma’s boy.”