The mystery woman’s infatuated expression as she gazed up at him meant nothing to Anamaría. Her life and his had been separate for nearly a decade. No longer the dynamic duo their classmates, familia, and friends had dubbed them.
He kept himself busy off photographing the world. Making a name for himself. Cavorting with people from all walks of life—celebrities and up-and-comers, hard-working villagers and unsung heroes in communities across the globe.
She was the one who had stayed in place. Marking time without realizing it. Unable to fully commit to either of the two serious relationships she’d been involved in. Silencing her secret dreams for too long.
But she was done with that. Over the past two years, she’d set her personal life on hold to dive one hundred and ten percent into her business. Now she was going places, too.
“When I set off to explore El Yunque, it was not with this outcome in mind.” He gestured at his leg.
“Accidents like yours rarely are. But I see them all the time on the job,” she answered, relieved to return her focus on his injury. Not their broken past.
“The rainforest has been hit hard by hurricanes in recent years. I wanted to document some of the change.”
Anamaría stepped toward the bed. “Yeah, it’s been harsh here in the Keys, too. Big Pine really took a beating after Hurricane Maria finished battering Puerto Rico and moved our way.”
“Yeah, I saw video and images online.” Alejandro slowly shook his head in commiseration. “Thankfully, El Yunque’s slowly coming back to life. When I finished my job in Puerto Rico, I stuck around for a bit before I was supposed to move on to Belize. That day, I planned an easy hike. Thinking I’d unwind to the coquis singing their high-pitched frog song from the trees. The rush of water tumbling over the rocks sending a cool mist on my face. Then I spotted an iguaca.”
“You mean, an iguana,” she clarified.
“No, it’s my tibia that’s banged up, not my head.” The corners of his wide mouth curved in a teasing grin she nearly found herself returning.
“An iguaca,” he enunciated the word. “It’s Taino for parrot. Because of the efforts of a special recovery program, the endangered Puerto Rican parrot population is slowly returning. Still, you don’t see many. And when you do…”
“You can’t help but capture its photograph,” she finished, knowing him almost as well as she knew herself. Or so she’d once thought.
The reminder was a sobering one.
His camera had been like an extension of his hands. Always there, somehow finding the perfect moment, a beautiful or moving image the average eye may have missed, but his never did.
“So, you were snapping pics of this endangered bird and decided you could fly off the edge of the waterfall along with it.”
“Well, it wasn’t quite—”
“Only, gravity had other ideas,” she finished, barely quelling the stark fear tightening her chest at the image of him toppling over the mottled grey and black rocks, his blood mingling with the water spilling off the sharp, slippery surface.
Driving an ambulance, she had witnessed her fair share of death and carnage, far too often the result of foolish thinking. She didn’t have to rely on her imagination to conjure any number of potential accidents when a daredevil like Alejandro went hiking on his own. The idea of him or any of her loved ones being the victim on a call she responded to at the station made her blood run colder than the springs she’d once tubed down in Central Florida.
“Not quite,” Alejandro countered. “I followed the parrot up a rock ledge. Got some incredible pictures of him in flight. A few other beauties with him perched on a tree limb.” He arched a rakish brow, far too sexy for someone in need of a bath, a shave, and a fatten-me-up Cuban mami meal. “I was feeling pretty satisfied with my Spidey climbing talents. Right up until my damn foot slipped, and my non-superhero status became clear.”
A laugh bubbled up her throat at his self-deprecating grumble and embarrassed grimace. Anamaría slapped a hand over her mouth to smother it.
“The only good thing was that I managed to save my camera from any damage.” He cradled his hands to his chest as if protecting a priceless object.
Anamaría snorted in disbelief as she sat on the edge of his bed facing him, careful not to bump his leg. “So, your camera’s fine, but your tibia shaft didn’t fare nearly as well. Why does that not surprise me?”
“Hey, anything for the best shot.” He spread his hands wide, his shoulders rising and falling with a shrug . “You know how it is. No pain, no gain.”
“Uh-uh. That’s my line as a fitness instructor,” she countered. “Sounds much better when I say it.”
“Depends on your perspective.”
“And we’ve always had different ones.” Coño, the jab slipped out before she could stop it.
Tension snapped in the air. The old accusation hung between them like overripe mangos left to rot on the branch.
“Forget I said that,” she offered, raising a hand to stem any argument from him. “It does no one, least of all us, any good to go there. The past is…”
“The past,” he finished when her voice trailed off.
Regret and the staunch determination to ignore it warred inside her wounding her with each strike.
Alejandro’s sober gaze ensnared hers. “I had no idea she called you. If I’d known what she was thinking, I would have—”
“Been unable to stop her,” Anamaria interrupted. “She’s a force of nature, that woman. Much like my mami.”
“Dios mío, deliver me from meddling mamis. One of many things I don’t miss about Key West.” His head dropped back to thump against the wall behind him.
If she were a glutton for punishment, she’d ask what the other “many things” might be. But there was no need to confirm her place of honor on his undoubtedly long “don’t miss” list. That fact had become cruelly
