Page 40 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Andthatmay be the first lie I’ve ever told Jordan Carmichael.

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JORDAN

Three weeks and one day until I find out if Sam Granger is right and my marriage to Marilee is indeed “pointless,” as she so aptly put it yesterday.

But who’s counting?

Standing at my desk, tucked away in the back corner of Go Round Adventures, I check the clock on my laptop again for the thousandth time. Just a few more minutes until I head out to pick up Marilee for a pre-lunch meeting with my attorney to go over the case and any prep work we need to do ahead of time. I just want the whole thing over with. I just want peace.

Not that I can get much peace with Marilee as my wife.

Thankfully, work has kept me busy this morning. I run a small operation here, only hiring a few other employees to lead day trips and run summer camps for kids but saving most of the overnight tours for myself. This puts extra burden on me, but when Georgia was alive, I simply scheduled around the weekends when she had Ryder. Now that Georgia’s gone, it’s putting a burden on my loved ones for me to work these long hours, but I’m not sure I have the funds to hire someone else. Maybe I should try to figure it out though.

The problem is the overnight tours are my most lucrative—and I do love them. Getting lost in nature, tuning out the rest of the world, immersing myself in the adventure of it all… Those are my favorite things. Even better when I can convince a few friends to come along.

And now, thanks to Chloe and her connection with Mitchell McGraff, I may have a new opportunity to woo customers who are willing to pay more for a high-end experience. More money per tour would be a boon that might help me be home more with my family.

Breathing out, I shoot off the email to Mitchell that I’ve been working on all morning and shut my laptop, stretching out my lower back, which still aches from the odd angle I slept at last night. Because despite my agreement to share a room with Marilee, when I finally got around to going to bed last night—she had hit the hay two hours before, thanks to having the early shift at work today—it just didn’t feel right to climb in beside her without her being awake to acknowledge she was still one thousand percent okay with it.

So I slept in an old wooden kitchen chair shoved in the corner of my room instead.

Ouch.

Grabbing my keys, wallet, and phone, I leave my cozy den, which consists of a standing desk and portable treadmill, a huge window overlooking the forested hill behind my shop, and framed sports memorabilia on the walls, including a baseball signed by famed Padres pitcher Randy Jones. I shut my door behind me and step into the small yellow lobby, where there’s a couple of sofas for people waiting for tours, a wall of rental equipment for the beach, and lots of eclectic pictures of past tour groups.

People clinging to zip lines as they fly over Pinot Noir vineyards and companion oaks, throwing their hands in the air through the open-air top of a dune buggy flying down the beach, popping their heads out of tiny tents they hauled through the forest themselves in the rain.

All smiling. All having the time of their lives.

Seeking the thrill, the adventure in the mundane.

And I get to foster that.

Man, I love my job. I just wish that the busy life it results in wasn’t the main reason I’m going to court over the custody of my son.

“Everything okay, boss?”

I turn to find Mandy sitting atop the green stool behind the counter-height desk in the center of the room. The brunette—who is a former basketball player, sturdy and easily almost six feet tall—loves the outdoors as much as I do. About five years my junior, she’s been with my company for the last two years, first working with her sister Sarah as camp counselors one summer. Now, she doubles as a tour guide and my office assistant.

“Yep. Just gotta head out for that appointment I told you about.”

“Sounds good. I’ll hold down the fort here.” She tilts her head, and her ponytail falls over one shoulder. “So this email you copied me on just a minute ago… Who is this Mitchell guy?”

I shove my phone and wallet into the right pocket of my joggers and join Mandy at the desk. “Essentially, he owns a gussied-up camping site with incredible views near the foothills of the Santa Lucia Mountains. He’s interested in partnering with us to get some tours up there at a discounted rate.”

“Ooo, that might bring in a different clientele than we’re used to. Expand the business.” She shoots finger guns at me and winks. “Great idea, boss.”

“Ha. That’s the idea. Chloe vouches for him, so I’ve got a lot of confidence things could work out.”

“But your email says you want to see the site before agreeing to anything.”

“You know I don’t do business with anyplace I haven’t visited myself. That’s disaster waiting to happen. I want to be sure it’s perfect for our needs.”

“Good point.” She pulls up our Google calendar on her computer. “After he responds, do you want me to reach out to him with dates that work for you? How about Valentine’s weekend? Doesn’t look like any tours on the calendar then.”

That’s the weekend before our court date, but maybe it would be nice to get away from the pressure and stress. “I might not be able to make it, but why don’t you see if that weekend or the following would work for him?”

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