Where to start? wondered Blue. He was used to running a crew and getting everyone involved, but tonight it would be a challenge to focus on anything except the gorgeous woman at his side who kept casting spells on him with those dark eyes. Yet, as much as he was digging on her, he really hoped Blue’s Bachelors won Questival and that trip. They’d been talking about going on an international excursion together for as long as they’d been a crew and this was their chance.

At least the not-so-friendly rivalry wouldn’t keep him from getting to know more about Lucy, not for the next 60 minutes anyway. “You’re not from Salt Lake, or even Utah, so where’s home?”

“Albuquerque,” said Lucy.

“No way! I’m from New Mexico!” What were the odds of that? The Albuquerque part worried him, since that was the location of the hated University of New Mexico. Best not to broach that subject yet, especially considering that the school mascot was part of their Questival team name. At least Lucy was a woman; if it did turn out that she’d attended that horrible school, she probably wouldn’t be nearly as fanatical about the rivalry as Blue was since most of the women he knew weren’t as into sports as he was.

“Look at that,” said Jeremy. “It’s a match made in Satan’s little oven.”

Sheila shook her head. “It’s not as hot there as you’d think. Did you see Breaking Bad? Did you notice everyone walking around with hoodies and jackets? We have our share of chilly days.”

“You won’t convince them,” said Blue. “Trust me, I’ve tried. Hatch really only gets into the 90s for a month and a half. It’s cooler than Salt Lake City.”

“Oh, you’re from Hatch,” said Lucy, nodding as if she’d figured something else out. “Home of Hatch green chilies. No wonder you’re so hot and smooth.”

Man oh man, Blue was digging this woman. He had to remind himself, Don’t forget there are more people here than just Lucy. He gave his guys a quick glimpse and saw most of them shaking their heads. “So, this Red Hot Llama team looks pretty exclusive. All of you good-looking, fit, and you even have all the bases covered: blonde, redhead, brunette, and … a woman with black hair.”

“There’s a word for that,” said Lucy. “Anyone know it?” She glanced around the table, then added, “Girls, don’t give it away.”

“An English word?” asked Nikola. He was conversational in about 20 languages.

“Yep.”

“Raven-haired?” asked Stone.

That wasn’t it, but Blue had no idea what it was.

“That’s two words,” said Lucy.

Dax shrugged and said, “I just always thought you were brunettes also.”

“Technically, no,” said Lucy. “Blue, got a guess?”

“Nah. The closest I got is jet black, but that’s not it.”

“Ladies?” Lucy raised her eyebrows.

In unison, the other three said, “Noirette.”

Noirette. Interesting. He wanted to hear Lucy say it. “What was that?”

“Noirette,” repeated Lucy.

Blue had been right; it sounded amazing coming from her.

“So,” said Nikola, “what do all of you do in Albuquerque?”

“I work in HR,” said Beth.

“I’m a teacher,” said Sheila.

“Unemployed college grad,” said Jazmine. “Anyone know of someone hiring Humanities majors?”

“You could be a firefighter,” said Stone. “They’ll hire any dummy.”

The guys laughed even though it wasn’t completely untrue. No college degree was required to get hired by most departments, but there were Fire I and Fire II certifications, plus EMT or paramedic classes, plus tons of specialties such as Haz-Mat and Heavy Rescue.

“I work for the university,” said Lucy.

Oh no. Blue hated UNM as much as he hated traffic jams, guys snoring in the station, and trying to fold fitted sheets. Combined. And so much for her not being loyal to that school. If they paid her, then she’d have some level of loyalty.

Well, it had been fun while it lasted.

“Wait,” said Dax. “New Mexico is the one in Albuquerque, right?” All four guys scooted their chairs back.

Jeremy said, “You might want to give them room, ladies. There’s likely to be blood.”

“Oh no,” said Lucy. “Don’t tell me you’re a stinking Aggie.”

“New Mexico State ’til I die,” said Blue. “Dang it, why did you have to be a … Lobo? Why couldn’t you be something less embarrassing, like a leper or number one on the FBI’s Most Wanted list?”

“Oh, you’re really not going to like this,” said Beth. “Tell him, Luce.”

She stared at him for a minute—no, that was a glare—like a cat whose territory had been invaded. Things had suddenly gone nuclear between them.

“You know what my favorite thing about UNM is?” She was no longer warm and flirty. In fact there was a challenging glint in her eye. “They have twice as many mascots as most universities.”

“Lobo Louie and Lobo Lucy,” said Blue. Even the image of stupid Lobo Louie and Lobo Lucy with their ugly tongues hanging out the sides of their mouths made Blue’s skin crawl. But there was a reason she was telling him this. “Wait. Lucy. Lobo Lucy. There’s no way …. You’re not ….”

“’Til I die,” said Lucy with a smug grin.

Blue had never heard of a couple experiencing irreconcilable differences before a first date, but he was pretty sure he’d just seen it.

Nikola broke the silence. “That is one thing I still don’t understand about this country. How can the simple choice of a university cause so much disagreement?”

Sheila said, “That’s a topic for debate, but what happened to a truce between rivals?”

“Yeah, boss,” said Stone. “Truce.”

“That was different,” said Blue.

“Yeah,” agreed Lucy. “Back when we thought it was just a simple trip to Peru on the line.”

“Still, you agreed,” said Stone.

Mercedes came back with an overloaded platter. As she set plates around the table, Beth said, “If you two can’t be civil, just stuff some food in your mouth and shut up.”

“Deep fried pineapple?” asked Sheila, licking her lips.

“It’s like a dessert,” said Nikola, spearing a few pieces onto his plate.

Blue was still watching Lucy suspiciously and he noticed she was keeping one eye on him as if she was worried he’d turn into a monster at any second.

“So, Lucy,” said Jeremy, drawing both of their attention. “Is Lucy your real name, or did you just start calling yourself that when you started the whole mascot gig?”

Lucy smiled. “Funny you should ask. I didn’t start going by Lucy until college.”

It just kept getting worse and worse. She was so brainwashed she had changed her name. Instead of rolling his eyes, Blue grabbed some nachos and pineapple.

“So what’s your real name?” asked Jeremy. Blue had been on the verge of asking but wasn’t quick enough. Every part of their interaction was passing through a greasy layer of nausea now.

With a mischievous grin she said, “Lucía.”

The guys all chuckled, including Blue. She’d had them going, thinking she had changed it from Jane or Britney or something that was nothing like Lucy.

Nikola repeated her name, pronouncing it like, “Loochia,” then asked, “Are you Italian?”

“No,” said Lucy. “My father is from Peru and my mom’s side of the family dates back to when Albuquerque was just a Spanish outpost. What about you? Are you Italian?”

“No. In my country it’s common for people to speak many languages.”

As one, all of the men repeated, “In my country,” and shared a laugh.

As if it explained anything, Blue said, “He’s not from Italy, he’s from My Country, which supposedly is somewhere in Eastern Europe but none of us have ever found it on a map.”

Dax spoke around half a mouthful of food. “He’s worse than Boston.” Again the guys laughed.

“Who’s Boston?” asked Lucy. She seemed to have forgotten the grudge and bad blood and decided to have a good time. Blue was down for that. Trying at least. Things had de-escalated significantly.

“He’s a Park City fire guy who used to work for Boston Fire,” explained Dax. “Everyone accuses him of being like, Boston this, and, Back in Boston that. But really he’s even more uncommunicative than our own Stone Cold.”

“My very first day on the job,” said Jeremy, “no one told me that Boston wasn’t his real name and he was ready to hang me from the hose tower when I called him that.”

“Wait,” said Blue, his mind suddenly flashing back two minutes in the conversation. “Did you say Peru? As in, Cuzco Peru?”

“Sí, Señor.”

“So that’s why you came all the way to the Salt Lake Questival. You’re trying to win a trip back to the mother land.”

“Yep,” said Lucy. “I’ve never been there. Never met my 90-year-old grandmother who I was named for.”

Blue asked, “Is she sick or dying or something?”

“No, she’s as healthy as you or I. Goes hiking outside of Cuzco a couple times a week and is one of the superstars in their community garden. I want to meet her in person while she’s still healthy. She was a tour guide at the Sacsayhuaman Ruins for over 50 years. It’s always been my dream to go there with her.”

Always the skeptic, Jeremy leaned forward with one eyebrow raised. “Is that just a story?”

Blue was kind of wondering the same, but it was a bit late for her to try to sell them a sob story since the competition was out of their hands.

“No way,” said Lucy. “And to prove it, I’ll send you all a pic of me and Abuelita at the ruins when I go next month.”

“What’s your number?” asked Blue, pulling out his phone and not even bothering to check the standings when it opened to the Questival app. “I’ll text you so you can send me that pic.”

Almost immediately Lucy had her phone out and numbers had been exchanged. A few seconds later he got a text from a New Mexico area code with a winking emoji.

Sheila said, “So, not to stir up that old rivalry again, but you two should put a bet on the big football game. Don’t they play in September?”

That was a great idea. Blue’s team, New Mexico State, was supposed to have a strong team and he could end this argument for a year when the Aggies crushed the Lobos.

“Yes!” said Blue.

“Yes!” said Lucy. “If by some miracle the Aggies win, I’ll fly back to Utah and let you show me a good time. If the Lobos win, I mean, when the Lobos win, you come out to Albuquerque and I’ll let you take me out on a date.”

That sounded like fun to Blue. “Sounds like either way … I win.”

Lucy had warmed back up. Things still weren’t as hot as they had been, but maybe that was okay; it had been heating up pretty fast. Maybe a little too fast.

Time might be just what he needed to get used to the idea of going out on a date with Lobo Lucy.

* * *

Later that night, Blue sat on his couch and pulled up the Questival app. Blue’s Bachelor’s and the Red Hot Lobo Llamas had pulled away and were alone in the one-two spots. It was either team’s game with less than twenty hours left in peer judging. It had only been half an hour since he’d seen Lucy, but Blue wanted more.

He had to swipe through five fifteen-second videos and a couple of pictures of other top ten teams before the first Red Hot Lobo Llamas picture came up. It was the spiral staircase pic, and somewhere they’d found a beautiful three-story wooden staircase and spread themselves out along it. Blue swiped it to the right—llamazing.

He couldn’t believe he was taking pity on a Lobo, but part of him wanted her to win the trip and make it to those Inca ruins that Blue couldn’t pronounce. His crew wasn’t tied to the idea of Cuzco. They could do some other epic trip. Time off wasn’t that hard to get, and it wasn’t like any of them had families or anything else that kept them from taking off for a week. If they didn’t win this trip, it would push the foreign travel back six months to a year, but it wouldn’t crush the dream entirely.

He continued to swipe through the challenges of the top ten teams. He wasn’t about to cheat by voting down every challenge of the other teams, but he did hold the top ten teams to a high standard. Every team except for the Red Hot Lobo Llamas. Swiping them repeatedly to the right didn’t make him feel guilty because with a girl like Lucy on the team, they truly were amazing.

Of course, she could have been playing him with the story about her grandma. She was a Lobo after all, and everyone from New Mexico knew Lobos were lying cheaters who smelled like cooked pasta that had been left in a pair of wet gym socks for a week.

But before he’d found out about her sordid past, he hadn’t thought that she smelled bad. Or looked bad. Or had any bad qualities whatsoever. There was still one—and only one—thing about her he didn’t like.

Why, why, why did it have to be that?