Anamaría grinned at her friend’s cheeky assertion while she watched the two men.
One tall, golden sun-kissed blond, with a charisma and charm that drew countless followers and clients. His light aqua AllFit tank and navy running shorts putting the muscles honed from hours spent training his body on display for the appreciative eye to ogle.
The other all lanky muscles with a broody, life-on-the-edge aura. Ale must have spent time in the Mirandas’ backyard because his skin had regained its bronze tan. The healthy glow and his thick, wavy hair were a foil for the flash of his rascally grin, a combination that made parts of her quiver with desire.
Brandon gestured at the external fixator rings, wincing when Alejandro explained his fall in El Yunque. This launched a “recovering from an injury” exchange of war stories between the two adventure seekers.
Sara led her away to step up onto the raised sidewalk lining the balustrade and railing, stopping to lean a hip against the concrete ledge near a Shallow No Diving sign. “You doing okay?”
“Mm-hmm, Brandon and I had a nice conversation this morning. Thanks for suggesting I give him a ride.”
“I thought it might be good to break the ice. And Alejandro?” Anamaría glanced at her ex, his head thrown back as he laughed at whatever Brandon was wildly gesturing about. This was the real Ale. On set, Canon in hand, enjoying the people and places he captured through his lens. Living his dream.
And now he was lending his talent to help her get closer to living hers before he left.
“It’s all good. Alejandro’s going to give us the best pictures of AllFit gear they’ve ever seen.” She leaned against the railing and shot Sara a sly glance, punctuated with a waggle of her brows. “Because I’ll be in them.”
“That’s the attitude I’m talking about. Go get ’em, girl.” Sara slapped her on the butt, then motioned for her to follow as she called out to the guys, “Are you two done comparing war stories over there?”
Alejandro jiggled his camera. “I was just telling Brandon, I’m happy to get out of the house for a bit. Helping familia makes this opportunity a win-win.”
Familia, huh?
Keeping their ex status out of the equation today worked for Anamaría. She was fine avoiding Brandon’s potential questions about her and Alejandro’s breakup. Talk about awkward conversation.
Sara cupped a hand around the edge of her mouth, as if letting him in on a secret. “In case Anamaría didn’t already tell you, these two grew up together. Their families go way back.”
“He’s my younger brother’s best friend,” Anamaría chimed in. “They were joined at the hip in junior high and high school. Best four-to-three double-play combination on the varsity baseball team.”
Until Alejandro had given up his favorite sport for photography.
His opening salvo in the battle of wills with his father. Unfortunately, Señor Miranda hadn’t budged, and Ale had never played another varsity game.
“Some of us stayed here on the island; some went off seeking fame and fortune.” She ruffled Alejandro’s hair, trying to maintain a playful, brotherly love act. Only the softness of his thick locks sparked the urge to let her fingers linger, maybe take a stroll down to caress the scruff on his cheeks.
Anamaría yanked her hand back before she gave in to temptation. “Key West is often a port in the storm for those who wander off. Alejandro may have dropped his anchor here for the time being, but once he’s healed, he’ll be off chasing the next awe-inspiring photograph, making us all proud, right, Ale?”
“Who knows, I might find it right here.” Alejandro’s lips quirked and he lifted his camera to snap a picture of her. “Like that one.” He snapped another. “Or how about that one?”
“Sto-o-o-o-op.” The word was more a whiney laugh than a command.
She stiff-armed him and ducked her head, her ponytail swishing across her face. He grabbed her hand, his fingers tangling with hers.
“None of those dorky pics will make it on my social media feed,” she warned.
“I don’t know, dorky is one of your best sides. You two should see some of the ones I took when we were kids.”
He chuckled at her wide-eyed, you-wouldn’t-dare glower. Then he flat-out belly laughed when Sara chimed in with, “I have got to see them. Do you have any of Luis?”
Swiping at the strands of hair that had snagged on her ChapStick, Anamaría shook her head at him, recalling the irritating way he used to tease her when he didn’t want to talk about something. Like his father. The camera was the shield Ale hid behind, randomly clicking away until she laughed and waved him off or body tackled him, so he’d stop.
Of course, body tackling often led to—
Sara sidled up to her and bumped their hips together, inadvertently bumping aside memories Anamaría needed to keep buried.
“Well, we are thrilled you agreed to fill in for Craig, aren’t we?” Sara said. “Here, let’s get a dorky sister pic.”
An experienced selfie taker, having grown her own social media reach to over half a million followers, Sara dipped her chin and tilted her head the precise way she knew would give Alejandro her best angle, then she stuck out her tongue. Anamaría joined in with her own funny face.
The soft click of Alejandro’s Canon answered.
“Hey now, I want in on the action.” Brandon joined the fray, looping his arm around Anamaría’s shoulders on her other side.
The three of them hammed it up for several minutes. Alejandro encouraging, pulling back to remove his sunglasses and check a setting, then snapping away again.
Eventually Sara begged off and moved to stand behind Alejandro. Brandon ducked down to scoop behind Anamaría’s knees.
“O-kay!” she squealed, grabbing onto his shoulders when he swept her up in his arms and strode toward the cement balustrade.
“I say we need an ‘I am woman’ with the ocean behind her. What do you think?” he called out.
“Yes!” Sara answered.
“Go for it,” Alejandro chimed in. “Pretend I’m not even here.”
Ha! Fat chance of that happening.
Brandon set her down on the two-foot-wide surface, then gave it a slap with his open palm. “Hop up.”
She hesitated, for some inexplicable reason suddenly awash with a wave of insecurity. She glanced at Sara, who smiled with encouragement, then at Ale. His earnest gaze held hers, telegraphing his belief in her.
Shit, this was going to be an excruciating experience for them all if she didn’t get out of her head. Trust herself. More important, trust Alejandro. He was good at what he did.
So was she.
Energized by the self-truth, she scrambled to her sneakered feet, mindful of the small ledge. She smoothed down the hem of her racerback AllFit tank, the peach color matching the tiny stripe running along the outside seam of her black cropped leggings.
“Careful. We don’t want you tumbling onto the rocks on the other side,” Alejandro warned.
Hands on her hips, she sent him an are-you-kidding-me stare. “That’s more your signature move, not mine.”
Her teasing earned her a sexy grin that peeked from under the bottom edge of his camera.
Encouraged, she flexed her right biceps à la Rosie the Riveter and tilted her face toward the sun hovering over the hazy horizon.