On this tiny island, with parents as close as theirs, running into him was unavoidable. So, attempting some kind of friendly-ish relationship their moms accepted as the best outcome they could get was better than the stilted, uncomfortable conversations they’d had when he first arrived.
But getting close to him again, relishing the rush of desire when his strong arms wrapped around her and his heady scent made her woozy with desire. Giving into the thrum of a need long unquenched . . .
That would be unwise and foolish. If also temptingly delicious.
Chapter 10
“You don’t know how relieved I was to get your call yesterday,” Sara Vance told Alejandro as they made the short drive from his parents’ house to Higgs Beach and the White Street Pier early the next morning.
Seated next to Luis Navarro’s fiancée, with the front passenger seat in her Toyota RAV4 pushed as far back as possible to accommodate his injured leg, Alejandro cradled his trusty Canon in his lap. For the first time since his accident, he felt a little like his old self again. Pre–nose dive off the waterfall. Back when he didn’t have to work so hard to avoid his dad. When regrets of what might have been were relegated to late at night or weak moments . . . not 24-7 with reminders all around him.
He smoothed his thumb over the camera’s backside, saying hello to an old friend. The familiar itch to explore his location, determine the perfect spot with the right angles and lighting, and start capturing images started at his fingertips, then spread up his arms, into his chest. Invigorating him.
“I’m happy to help,” he told Sara, eyeing the lush vegetation along the south side of Atlantic Boulevard. Mother Nature’s early-morning sun peeked across the sky, soft and hazy. The ideal lighting for outdoor photography. “Actually, like Anamaría mentioned, I’m relieved to get out of the house and work on something productive.”
Sara flashed a friendly smile, one that had earned “likes” from millions the world over. Her classic features, blue-green eyes, wavy blond tresses, and runner’s physique gave her a girl-next-door appeal that had many companies paying for her to use and promote their products or services.
But Alejandro knew she was more than a pretty face. Sara Vance also possessed the keen mind of a successful entrepreneur. One who’d gone from small-time fashion and beauty blogger in college to sought-after social media influencer to the designer of her own clothing line. More important, to him at least, over the past year she had taken Anamaría under her wing, providing guidance and introducing her to contacts that were helping build the AM Fitness brand.
The irony of this outgoing people person who lived much of her life in front of the camera and connecting with individuals across the globe being engaged to the strong but silent, most introverted of the Navarro brothers wasn’t lost on Alejandro. According to Enrique, Sara and Luis balanced each other, somehow fitting perfectly together.
If he still believed in soul mates and happily-ever-after, Alejandro guessed Luis and Sara would be the poster couple. For their sake, he hoped so.
Sara slowed her SUV as they approached the three-way stop where Atlantic Boulevard intersected with White Street. Off to their left the long concrete pier jutted out over the ocean.
“I have to admit, you did cross my mind when I first hung up with Craig yesterday. But with your injury and . . . given your history with Anamaría . . .”
Sara’s blue-green gaze cut to him. He was sure she knew all about his and Anamaría’s breakup. And since she had only heard the Navarro side of the story, more than likely she viewed him as the one to blame. Family loyalty was strong with the Navarros. He respected that. Even with him being on the wrong side of it when it came to protecting their Princesa.
To his surprise, though, Sara’s watchful gaze didn’t contain condemnation like his father’s. More like caution, as if she was reserving judgment until she drew her own conclusion about him. Encouraged by her attitude, he opted to trust Luis Navarro’s judgment and trust Sara with the truth.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about my history with Anamaría. For what it’s worth, I’m excited for her and the opportunities she’s worked to attain. She asked for my help, as a friend. No way would I or could I refuse. Because of our history. But also because I want what’s best for her.”
A car behind them beeped, and Sara eased away from the stop sign, heading toward the public parking spots along Higgs Beach.
She arched a light brown brow, her pensive glances between him and the road a little unnerving. “That’s very commendable of you.”
Having just met her, Alejandro couldn’t tell if she was being serious or condescending.
“This isn’t the type of shoot you’d usually book,” Sara continued. “More small potatoes when compared to the magazine covers and inspiring cultural and geographical photography you’re known for.”
“Nah.” He waved off her flattery. “Every job has potential. Honestly, when I’m on location, some of my favorite photographs are a result of me wandering the streets on my own time. Interacting with locals.”
Sara pulled into an open parking spot by the West Martello Tower, the unfinished Civil War–era fort that housed the Key West Garden Club’s botanical gardens. The redbrick structure, known for its archways and paths, lush gardens, and gorgeous views overlooking the Atlantic Ocean, was often a sought-after location for weddings and private events. Back in high school, one of Anamaría’s girlfriends had held her quinceañera here.
Staring at the brick building’s façade, Alejandro could easily picture the moment Anamaría had stepped into her familia’s living room wearing that figure-skimming mermaid-cut sleeveless red gown. Her dark hair a mass of curls gathered in a fancy updo. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue, his hormones going haywire. Nearly embarrassing himself in front of her parents.
Thinking about their up close and personal encounter on his front porch yesterday, it was clear that his body still reacted the same way to hers.
Alejandro’s gaze scanned the public beach off to the right, one of his adolescent playgrounds. Like countless other spots around the island, this place held so many memories of him and Anamaría.
How many times had they sat at one of the concrete picnic tables sharing a sandwich from Sandy’s Café? Most Friday nights they’d hung out here with Enrique and a group of friends until ten o’clock rolled around and the cops shooed them off. Across the street a little farther down, at Astro City Park, he and Anamaría had shared their first kiss. July Fourth weekend, the summer before their sophomore year.
“Well then, if local pictures are your personal specialty, I guess White Street Pier and the beach are great locations.” Sara’s observation chased away his memories, bringing him back to the here and now.
“Definitely,” he agreed. “And I can’t get more local than a born-and-raised Conch as my subject.”
The same girl who had starred in much of his early work.
They’d almost come full circle. Unfortunately, true to form, this circle would continue the same way, with him leaving to find the next great photograph that would fill the void inside him.
“Well, one Conch and one Malibu surfer,” Sara reminded him, her eyes alight with excitement. “East and West Coast combining in social media greatness. Or at least, that’s our goal.”