Anchored Hearts

by Priscilla Oliveras

  “That’s my girl!” Alejandro shouted, humor lacing his cry.

  Anamaría started with surprise. My girl?

  “Brandon, you going to let her show you up like that, or what?” Alejandro’s baiting chatter shook her from her brief stupor. This was part of his job, cajoling his subjects, putting them at ease.

  Brandon took the proverbial ball lobbed his way and ran with it. He dropped into a push-up position. She followed suit. Heads craned so they stared at each other, they did a set of ten. He switched to one-handed for the last two, and she raised a leg in the air for hers.

  “Show-offs!” Alejandro teased.

  Sara whooped her praise.

  Feeding off their encouragement, Anamaría flipped over to do a V-up, her straight arms and legs shooting toward the sky until her fingers touched her toes. Brandon copied her. They held the pose, turning it into a who-can-stick-it-the-longest competition.

  She won, though she’d bet a smoothie from the stand usually parked at Smathers Beach that Brandon let her.

  It showed how well he didn’t know her. There was no need for any guy to “let” her win; just ask her brothers. Or Alejandro.

  “Looking good,” he told them. “Rest for a second while I make some adjustments.”

  He fiddled with his camera, his brow furrowed in concentration. The humid breeze picked up, pushing his wavy hair onto his forehead, and he finger-combed it back absently, his gaze never leaving his camera’s display screen.

  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 tighte
ned 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 . . .

  “Not too shabby,” he mused. “I mean, I’ve got some great photography skills if I do say so myself.”

  “¡Ay, nene, por favor!” She dropped her head back to groan up at the sky. “The ego on this one. Unbelievable!”

  “Here. Let me show you something.”

  He pressed a button and the screen filled with a collage of tiny images. They blurred as he toggled quickly through them, finally stopping and tapping on one. “Sí, esta. This one’s my favorite. You have to post it. Or let me.”

  Alejandro’s request should have prepared her. She, more than many, knew how seriously he took his work. He would not give his praise lightly. Especially when he was such a tough critic of his own work.

  Still, when she peered at the screen, her breath hitched when she saw the photograph.

  In the background, the baby blue sky was a watercolor painting of muted early-morning peachy orange and bloodred with cotton ball white clouds. She must have just tossed her head and the ocean breeze spread her long ponytail in a dark fan behind her. Fists on her hips, an I-got-this tilt of her chin, a determined gleam in her eyes, a mischievous quirk at one corner of her mouth completed her don’t-mess-with-me expression.

  She looked . . .

  Coño, she looked pretty badass. Empowered. Confident. Brimming with a ready-to-take-on-the-world energy she encouraged others to adopt with her.

  It was the AM Fitness brand come to life. Exactly what AllFit had mentioned appealed to them. And Alejandro had captured it in one frame.

  Overwhelmed, she covered his hand with hers on the camera. “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “For what? The pictures?” His shirt sleeve brushed her bare arm with his no-big-deal shrug. “It felt good to work again. You did me a favor.”

  She blew out a breath and shook her head at his humility, unwilling to let him downplay what he had done for her today. “For seeing me this way.”

  Her thumb grazed the image on the tiny display screen. Alejandro looped his over hers as if they were playing thumb war. Only the emotion tightening her chest wasn’t playful. More like blown away.

  “This is you, AM. It’s why so many people here in Key West love you. Why AM Fitness is growing. Why AllFit offered a contract. Why Brandon freaking Lawson flew down here to be part of your first shoot. There’s no Photoshop or editing here. It’s raw, real footage. Of you.”

  He glanced at her, pride swimming in his dark eyes. She blinked up at him, moved by his candor. Her knees suddenly weak, she sank down to perch on the raised pavilion’s floor ledge, the metal railing cool against her back.

  They sat in companionable silence for several moments. Absently, she drew an arc back and forth in the sand with her sneaker toe. At a loss for words after his heartfelt ones.

  “We had some good times over there, didn’t we?” His softly spoken question, nostalgia weaving through it in a rough stitch, drew her attention.

  Lips rolled between his teeth, Alejandro stared across the street at Astro City Park, where a young woman chased a toddler around the base of the slide. His profile was all sharp cheek angles and planes above the several days’ beard growth, his squinty eyes accented by laugh lines.

  The boy she had loved, now the man she was trying to befriend, while also working to convince herself she no longer desired him.

  “Yeah, we did,” she answered, her throat tight with regret for what they hadn’t been able to hold on to.

  A seagull swooped over the volleyball net, snagging her gaze. It glided in front of them to land on its spindly feet about ten feet away where a couple in bikinis lounged on a yellow-and-blue-striped beach blanket. One of the women held a sandwich out to her partner, who leaned in and took a bite. They shared a chaste kiss; then one gently combed the other’s brown hair behind her ear with an intimate smile.

  A fond kinship warmed Anamaría’s chest. There’d been a time when a picnic on this same beach had been one of her and Alejandro’s favorite ways to spend a lazy afternoon together.

  “Can I ask you a question?” Alejandro looped his camera strap around his neck, then grasped his crutches in one hand before lowering himself to sit beside her on the small ledge.

  She slanted a cautious look at him. “Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer, though.”

  “Fair enough.” He rubbed a hand over the scruff darkening his jaw. “You got certified as a trainer while working on your EMT and paramedic training, then finished your degree in nutrition online while on the job with the fire department, what . . . five, six years ago?”

  She nodded, wondering where he was going with this.

  “How come you haven’t ramped things up with AM Fitness sooner? I mean, listening to you talk with Brandon about what you do outside the fire station, not to mention all the volunteering and fundraising my mom talks about you doing in the community. . . it’s clear you love everything AM Fitness stands for.” He held up a hand like he anticipated her objection. “Not that you don’t like being a paramedic. I saw the other day how much your job and the people you try to help affect you. But this . . .” He drew an open-palmed circle in the air in front of her. “Your cooking videos, live classes, and virtual clients, the excitement when you talk about going to race expos and giving exercise demos as part of AllFit’s team. It feels different. You talk about it with a different energy. Why not pursue AM Fitness full-time?”

  His insightful observation, one few made, caught her off guard. Her familia had encouraged her when it came to her interest in nutrition and athletic training, but as a side hustle. Her position alongside her brothers and Papi in the familia business, as they liked to call it, had never been questioned.

  At least, she had never questioned it out loud. Definitely not with others.

  “You know the job can be demanding. Some shifts take their mental, physical, or emotional toll on you. But it’s what we Navarros do.” Elbows bent, she gave an it-is-what-it-is shrug. “Exercising has always been a way to blow off steam. When people started asking me for workout advice, I educated myself. Learning about nutrition became important to me after Papi’s heart attack. Then I found I could combine athletic training with my nutrition degree to help others, like I had with my dad. But taking it to another level? I wasn’t sure I wanted to turn what helped me refill my well into a job job.”

  At least, that’s what she had always told herself. Before she’d been able to admit that she’d been subconsciously waiting for something. Someone. Holding herself back, settling rather than pushing herself.

  But even with this strange sort of truce she and Alejandro were trying to navigate together, she couldn’t bring herself to reveal the full truth to him.

  “What made you change your mind?” he pressed.

  She took her time answering, weighing how much she wanted to say. “A little over two years ago I had a kind of eye-opening experience. A few months later, my cousin Vanessa and I had a frank conversation. And quite a few margaritas.” She paused at his laugh, her mouth twisted with chagrin. “Believe me, the hangover the next morning was not fun. But, that night, I promised myself I would stop hesitating and go for it.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Yeah, it was. And kudos to Vanessa for
giving me the kick in the pants I needed.”

  The strains of a country music song interrupted the calming beach atmosphere, intensifying to club level when a yellow Jeep screeched to a stop in a parking spot close by. Two guys, one as short and stocky as the other was tall and gangly, both wearing tropical board shorts and faded tees, hopped out. Two girls in bikini tops and booty shorts followed. Arms laden with towels, beach chairs, and a cooler, they made their way toward the shore, kicking up sand with their flip-flops, voices raised with their fun.

  Alejandro’s gaze tracked the group’s path until they disappeared around the other side of the pavilion, all the while absently rubbing his left knee above the highest fixator ring. He had to be feeling some level of discomfort after their long morning but was probably too proud to say so. When he noticed her eyeing his motion, he stopped and tugged down the hems of his faded black cargo shorts.

  “Here they come.” He separated his crutches, grasping one in each hand; then he pushed up on his right foot.

  Across the way, Sara and Brandon strolled out of the restaurant’s main entrance into the covered outdoor seating area.

  “He’s a decent guy.” Alejandro motioned toward Brandon, who waited for Sara to precede him through the gate in the low, brightly painted wooden fence surrounding the popular eatery. The two of them stopped, Sara leaning closer as Brandon lifted his cell phone for them to look at something on the screen.

  “Seems like it,” Anamaría said.

  “Probably a good idea that the two of you paired up.”

  “Oh, we’re not pairing pairing up. Not like that, anyway.” Flustered by the wrong direction Alejandro was heading, she straightened, waving off whatever he might be implying. “We’re professional acquaintances. Maybe moving into friend territory. That’s all.”

  “You never know,” Alejandro pressed.

  “Nuh-huh, it’s not happening.” Anamaría shook her head emphatically. “I’m not messing things up with AllFit by trying to hook up with someone. This is business, and Brandon seems like he could be a good friend, nothing more.”