Anamaría ducked into the small space between him and the car’s dashboard. Her ponytail braid, fashioned with her deft fingers in between takes on the beach, swung down to bump against his thigh, mimicking the smack he felt certain she wanted to give him upside the head.
The white and deep purple AllFit windbreaker she wore over her matching sports bra had been zipped up halfway, drawing his attention to the swell of her breasts straining against the stretchy material. Her tropical shampoo mixing with the earthy scent of a morning spent in the Florida humidity tempted him to press his nose to her neck and breathe in her unique essence. Instead he teased his simmering desire for her by trailing his gaze past the sun-kissed bronze skin on her chest, to her full lips, aggravation-flushed cheeks, and gold-flecked eyes.
“AM?” Sara asked.
The two women stared at each other, apparently exchanging some kind of silent conversation, because Sara ultimately nodded, then pulled her keys out of the ignition.
“Fine, we’ll head inside. You”—Sara’s tone held a warning as she placed a cool hand on Alejandro’s forearm—“thank you for earlier today. But remember, when it comes down to it, many of us here are team—”
“Navarro,” he finished. “I know and respect that.”
The secretive smile that had helped make Sara the sought-after social media maven she had become softened her no-nonsense expression. “And you.” Sara pointed at Anamaría. “Give the guy a break; he did us both a huge favor.”
“Yes, and I’m trying to return that favor by looking out for his obstinate ass,” Anamaría complained.
Sara’s light laughter trailed off as she slid out and closed her door. She motioned Brandon over and then led him down the walkway between the parking spots and the building toward the back entrance.
As soon as the pair disappeared inside, Anamaría backed out of Alejandro’s front seat space, leaving her citrusy scent behind. He placed his right foot on the ground outside, then carefully lifted his left leg and swiveled to face the open door. Anamaría bent forward to help him, but he waved her off, placing his weight on his right leg and pushing off the door frame to stand.
“You are so hardheaded,” she complained.
“Hello, pot, I’m kettle,” he threw back.
The remark earned him a glare. He wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow, then finger-combed his hair back with a tired sigh. She was right, his leg hurt like a bitch. Rest would do him well, but he’d bite his tongue till it bled before admitting so. He would see this lunch through for Anamaría.
“Look, I get what you’re trying to do,” he told her.
“Oh really? You get it, but still won’t listen to my medically trained advice?”
“Fine, you’re right. I should get this damn leg elevated. Definitely take another over-the-counter pain pill, which I will once we get inside.”
“Hold on a minute.” Anamaría stuck a finger in her ear as if she were clearing it out. “Repeat that first part again, please? I think I misheard. I’m what?”
He hiked a brow with censure at her exaggerated dumbfounded expression. “Now who’s being a smartass?”
“Takes one to know one.” She tilted her head in a defiant slant, sending her braid swaying behind her. “Now, if I’m right, why the hell are you giving me such a hard time?”
He stalled for a few seconds, hating the need to share the ego-bruising truth. Unfortunately, her arched brow told him she wasn’t going to let him off the hook.
“Coño,” he muttered, scratching the scruff on his jaw. “Coming here isn’t something I take lightly. You know that. So, I’ll be damned if I’m going to face my dad and his inevitable hostility from a fucking baby stroller. Unable to stand up to him.”
Both the fight and the laughter drained out of Anamaría. Compassion swept in to take their place, tipping her lips in a sad frown. “First, it’s not a baby stroller. It’s a—”
“I know what the hell it’s called. Cut me some slack, okay?” He leaned back against the car for support.
“Fine, have it your way.” Anamaría eyed him warily but didn’t say anything about his leg when she finally spoke. No, she picked another, more difficult topic. “It’s been two weeks almost. Have you and your dad not made any move to find common ground?”
Alejandro shook his head. “He won’t. It has to come from me.”
“And have you tried?”
He rubbed at the tired muscles along the back of his neck, playing it safe by giving her the easiest reason why he was here. Rather than the impossible one.
“Right now, I’m trying to be part of the Key West welcome crew Sara requested when she gave me the lowdown on Brandon and his tie to AllFit.”
“What?” Anamaría’s face scrunched with a confused frown. “Sara asked—Ale, you don’t have to do this. You’ve done enough already.” She gestured behind him at the restaurant. The place that was more his papi’s pride and joy than he would ever be. “This is a big ask I can’t make.”
“You didn’t ask. Brandon did, the jerk.”
Her lips twitched with a smile.
“Plus, this gets my mother off my back. She’s been pushing me to give in and show respect for my dad by coming here. Between that and the two of you stressing out about my recovery.” He slapped a hand to his forehead in exaggerated horror. “Carajo, you women and your nagging, me van a volver loco.”
“Ha! We’re driving you crazy. Does the term bird-hunting cliff diver ring a bell?” she teased, her grin breaking free to flash brightly.
She took a baby step toward him, reaching out to swat playfully at his sternum. Her hand lingered to caress his side. The light touch burned through his button-down as if she had brushed his bare skin.
Damn, he wanted her so badly, he ached with it. But he couldn’t act on it. Doing so wouldn’t be fair to her. What he had witnessed today confirmed what he had slowly begun to figure out, based on clues from Enrique, and her.
Anamaría may have waited to blossom into her own, but she had bloomed into a beautiful orchid, the symbol of strength and perfection that grew on the trunks of the palms and native trees around the Keys. She was a complex mix of her familia’s deep roots, holding fast to the island’s soil, and her burgeoning self-confidence, drawing him in with her vibrant personality.
He could appreciate the flower, but she wasn’t his to pluck and take with him anymore. Thinking he could do so all those years ago had been his biggest mistake. Now he could help her flourish.
As if she read his thoughts, Anamaría surprised him by stepping closer and lifting up on her toes to press a kiss against his cheek. His eyes drifted closed as he savored the feel of her soft lips on his skin. When she started to ease away, his hands instinctively moved to her hips, loath to let her go.
Her palms splayed on his chest, she leaned in and gazed up at him. A warmth that reached the depths of his wounded soul shone in her expressive eyes.
“You might like everyone to think you’re a badass,” she said. “Climbing mountaintops, running with bulls, and all that craziness. But I know your secret.”