Sara ducked down by his chair to peer at the images with him. Alejandro said something that broadened her smile. She looped an arm around his neck, bringing them cheek to cheek for a hug. It was an easy hop, skip, and a jump to picture him on another location, with another beautiful model, equally as tall and confident and experienced and blond as Sara.
Like the one he had married.
Jealousy—ridiculous and unwanted—burned in Anamaría’s chest.
Brandon tugged softly on the end of her ponytail. “Hey, you, where’d you go off to?”
“Wha—? Oh, nowhere special.”
Nowhere productive, either.
“You sure?”
She nodded, tamping down on her mind’s negative meanderings. “So, LA’s next for you?”
“Yep. Shame you’re not heading to the expo with me. But I’m glad I made it down here.” His blue eyes sparked with friendly interest.
“I really appreciate you doing this,” she said. “You and Sara have gone out of your way for me.”
“She’s good people. Any friend of Sara’s is a friend of mine.” He tossed his hair out of his eyes with a little head jerk, then gazed down at Anamaría, his expression sincere. “She called it right by recommending AllFit take a look at you. I like what you’ve done with your business model for AM Fitness. The content you’re sharing and posting on all your platforms aligns with the company’s inclusive values. I’d say, you’re a great addition to the team.”
Anamaría returned his smile, pleased to know her hard work was paying off. “Thanks, I’m excited about taking this step with them.”
“You know—”
“Okay, ready to get back to work?” Alejandro interrupted.
“If we have to,” Brandon dead-panned, his easy laugh belying his troll tone.
He hopped off the balustrade, landing gracefully on the sidewalk in front of her. Tapping his shoulders, he motioned for her to climb on.
Anamaría frowned.
The last time she’d sat on a guy’s shoulders, they’d been Alejandro’s. During a beach party up the Keys at Bahia Honda with a group of friends, spring of their senior year. Enrique had proposed a game of chicken in the water. She and Alejandro had been eliminated early. Mostly because she’d given up, preferring to hang out with him off to the side, the gentle motion of the waves as she floated in his arms lulling her with a false sense of security.
Less than two months later, he’d been gone.
“Come on, I got you,” Brandon encouraged. His back to her, he held his hands high for her to use for support.
Sara gave her two thumbs-up.
Alejandro didn’t seem pestered by memories of them clowning around in a similar manner. Instead, his gaze bounced from their surroundings, over to her and Brandon, then back to his camera where he fiddled with the settings. Focused on his job, like she should be.
All righty then.
Gamely, she grabbed ahold of Brandon’s hands. She hooked one leg, then the other over his broad shoulders, wrapping her shins around his hips and gripping his lower back with her sneakers.
As soon as she settled on top of him, he dropped down in a deep squat.
“Yikes!” she squealed, tightening her entire body and squeezing his hands in a death grip.
“Watch it, big guy. You’re carrying precious cargo there.”
Brandon and Sara laughed at Alejandro’s warning.
Anamaría scrunched up her face like she’d done as a kid when her brothers told her she couldn’t do something because she was a girl.
He clicked away without missing a beat. She caught the white slash of his devilish grin behind his camera, and she realized that no matter what, she was happy he was here.
Chapter 12
Several hours later, Anamaría emerged from the public bathroom on Higgs Beach to find Alejandro on his crutches, standing by himself in the shade of one of the elevated circular pavilions that rose the height of four steps from the ground. His camera bag nestled in the sand beside him, his trusty Canon in his hands. He’d been on his feet since they had moved from the White Street Pier to the beach at least an hour and a half ago when he vetoed the hassle of pushing the wheelchair through the sand.
While Ale and Sara had scoped out various locations around the public beach area, she and Brandon had changed into different AllFit workout clothes for the next set of pictures. Once ready, they’d spent the past hour plus hitting a volleyball back and forth on the sand court, clowning around in a kayak still on dry land, and strolling, then cartwheeling, down the smaller walking pier near the Casa Marina end of Higgs.
They had wrapped up a little while ago with Brandon and Sara talking Anamaría into attempting the Dirty Dancing lift, though she had balked at the idea of him trying to hold her aloft, arms raised above his head. It had taken three tries and a boatload of trust on her part. Plus, Alejandro’s threat of ratting out to her brothers that she’d been too chicken to attempt the lift properly.
Sara, like a good big sister, had swatted him on the back of the head and told him to be nice or she’d take one of his crutches. Anamaría had snickered at the threat, knowing it was all talk but appreciating the gesture.
“Sara and Brandon are buying waters inside,” Alejandro told her as she approached him now. He motioned with his chin toward Salute! On the Beach, the popular Italian restaurant with killer ocean views; then he went back to studying his camera.
His right thumb repeatedly pressed a button and she realized he was toggling through the pictures.
“How do they look?” She stepped toward him, moving to his right, to avoid bumping the fixator rings on his left leg.
“Not half bad. If only the two of you were more photogenic.” He side-eyed her with a bemused twist of his lips.
“Ha ha,” she muttered, fake punching his arm in lighthearted protest.
“Hey now, don’t hurt the injured hired help.” He rubbed his biceps with a wounded expression.
“No seas un bebé. I barely tapped you.”
He snorted. “You’re calling me a baby? Who yelped like a young pup and nearly pulled out a chunk of Brandon’s hair when she first tried that cheesy dance lift?”
This time, she really did punch him.
Annoyingly, he laughed at her, unfazed. “Ven pa’cá, take a look.”
Following his request, she leaned closer. He did the same, angling the camera so she could better see the display screen. The back of his hand accidentally brushed across her left breast. Her nipples tightened in response, aching for more of his caress.
She eased back a fraction, self-preservation outweighing lust. Alejandro didn’t even seem to notice.
He toggled a button on the back of the Canon and the screen lit up. The image of her leaning over the pavilion’s round metal railing as she spread her arms and yelled, “I’m queen of the world!” filled the tiny rectangle. Alejandro had snapped it from the sandy beach below.
“I think you need to work on not being so shy,” he teased.
She chuckled, instinctively leaning close again when he pressed the arrow backward.
Picture after picture flashed by. Unedited, obviously, but quality images. Silly ones and blooper reel–worthy ones. Some that should immediately be deleted. But others, even untouched . . . wow . . .