Island Affair (Keys to Love #1)(80)

“News flash!” Fingers spread wide, Anamaría crossed her hands in the air, moving them apart as if she highlighted her words on a marquee. “I am involved! I’m about to go back in there and lie to a client.”

She jabbed a hand toward the rental house. Co?o, the girl was on a roll. And when his baby sister got worked up, forget injecting a word in edgewise

“A well-paying, influential client, based on what my contact at the Casa Marina’s Spa al Mare indicated when I booked this gig. So, sorry, hermano, but this is my business now. Like, actually, my business. AM Fitness.” Anamaría stressed her company name, pounding her flat palm over her company logo on her chest. “Now, what the hell am I walking into when I go back in there?”

His sister’s words hit him like a barrage of pellets, stinging with truth. Shit, she was right. Even worse, for someone who despised lies and liars, he was going to have to ask Anamaría to join him and Sara in this tangled knot of deception. One that, if they weren’t careful, would wind up turning into a noose.

Frustration mounting, Luis speared a hand through his hair, sliding it down to squeeze at the headache forming at the base of his skull.

“Okay, I’ll level with you,” he said, giving in because it was the right thing to do. His sister deserved the truth if he was going to ask her to lie. “But you have to promise me this is between us. Not Carlos. Not Mami. Only us.”

Anamaría narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“?Prométeme!” he growled.

She held up her hands in surrender. “Fine! I promise.”

“Here, open your trunk so it looks like I’m helping and not arguing with you.”

Anamaría hoisted a brow as if she were surprised by his knowledge of subterfuge. Still, she followed him to the back of her SUV and lifted the hatch.

“I ran into Sara on Friday around lunch, at the airport when I dropped some food off for Carlos. She was in a bind, some jerk stood her up, and she needed someone to step in to help, as her . . .”

He paused, embarrassed to actually admit this next part. He knew what his sister, his entire family, would think: Who are you and what have you done with my brother?

Saying yes to something like this was completely out of character. And yet he’d had the best damn three days of his life so far, thanks to Sara.

“Her partner, are you serious?” Hands on her hips, Anamaría gaped at him.

He gestured for her to grab something from her car, and she leaned in, reaching for the basket of rolled yoga mats and foam blocks she provided for her clients.

“Uh, yeah,” he answered lamely.

The basket plunked down onto the gray trunk carpet. “No way. It’s like in one of those rom-coms I love watching.”

Luis winced, already seeing the hearts in his sister’s hazel eyes. The last thing he needed was Anamaría playing matchmaker when he had no idea how or even if anything could come of this alternate reality he and Sara had conceived.

“Not exactly,” he cautioned. “Sara’s mom has been sick and this vacation was supposed to be stress-free for her. Then Sara’s idiot boyfriend ditched her, but she didn’t want her mom worrying about it. She was in a tight spot and I had the time off. It seemed natural for me—”

Anamaría’s trill of laughter rudely interrupted his explanation.

“Let me get this straight. Saint Navarro stepping in to save the day for one of this generation’s most sought-after social media influencers. That seems natural to you?”

He shrugged, his annoyance mushrooming when she threw back her head and laughed again. Her ponytail braid swished along her back when she shook her head, eyeing him with bemusement.

“How the hell was I supposed to know who she was?” he complained. “You know me; I’m not into all that social media stuff.”

“Un-freaking-believable.” Anamaría sank onto her vehicle’s bumper with a huff.

Eyes squeezed shut, she tucked her chin to her chest and pinched the bridge of her nose. A perfect imitation of their mami when they’d been out of control as kids and her patience thinned.

“I have been practically cyberstalking Sara Vance for over a year.” His sister squinted up at him in disbelief. “Reading her blogs and posts, combing through articles about her, following her advice. Ever since I decided to try growing my AM Fitness brand and client list. I would kill—kill, me oíste?”

“Yes, I hear you. Half the damn block hears you!” He craned his neck to peer at the Vances’ rental home, praying Sara or, por favor no, her mother hadn’t stepped outside.

“I would kill for half an hour of her time as a professional, so I could pick her brain. And you! You randomly run into her and wind up—Wait a minute, ay Dios mío!” Anamaría slapped a hand to her forehead. A stricken expression tightened her high cheekbones and widened her big eyes like an actress in one of their mami’s and abuela’s telenovelas. “Sara is the blonde everyone’s seen you with all weekend?”

Luis stumbled back as if his sister had slapped him with her accusation. “What do you mean, everyone?”

“Oh, you are so screwed, hermano.”

“What? Why?”

Hands on her slim hips, Anamaría scrunched her face in commiserating dismay. “Mami’s on to you.”