Page 58 of Beachside Kisses With My Best Friend

Having dinner with another dude is not exactly how I imagined my Valentine’s weekend starting.

I’d hoped to be driving up the mountain pass to Mitchell McGraff’s glamping site tonight with Marilee, but she never responded to my invitation. And early this morning, I got a call from Mitchell asking for a deviation in our plans. Instead of our first meeting being at the camping site, he wanted to meet up in town at the base of the foothills tonight—Valentine’s Day—and head up to the campsite tomorrow.

The guy must be just as single as I am.

And even though I’m married, Iamsingle. The fact that Marilee’s spent the week “thinking” in every place other than our home tells me that much.

But as I duck out of the rain with my small suitcase and under the awning of the boutique hotel where he requested we meet up, I realize Mitchell’s plan is perfect. Like he said on the phone this morning, the views from the tents wouldn’t be good due to the weather tonight anyway, but tomorrow’s forecast is supposed to be clear. And meeting in town gives me a chance to see what makes this area special, as well as time tomorrow to explore other potential stops on my new adventure tour itinerary, should this partnership with McGraff Glamping work out.

Plus, apparently, this hotel makes a mean steak.

Raindrops splash in the large stone fountain in front of the hotel as I watch the valet take my truck from the circular driveway to an unseen lot, and the tinkling of classical music filters outside. I adjust my suit jacket—the same one I wore to my wedding with Marilee—and make sure my cuff links are still in place, all the while breathing through my nerves. This meeting could be a make or break for me. Not that Go Round Adventures isn’t doing well. We are. But if I can secure this partnership, if it can truly attract a new clientele, it would allow me to step up my income. And that would mean I could hire more staff. Be there more for Ryder.

Because much as I love my job, I love my kid even more. And I want to do everything I can to be the best dad I can. To be present in a way my father wasn’t for me, not because he was deployed, but because even when he was around…he wasn’t.

A well-dressed couple steps out of another vehicle, and I turn to let them pass, taking in the outside of the hotel when I do. It’s got a vintage Spanish architecture vibe, but with a modern twist because nothing looks old or crumbling. Staircases wind up the sides of the building. Colonnaded walkways lead to gardens and, in the distance, a rolling vineyard. The air smells crisp and cool, with a hint of earth that’s sweet and stunning.

And when I step inside, it’s more of the same. I remember going to some sort of military gala with my parents one time when I was young, and it was in a hotel like this. Massive chandeliers drip diamonds from the vaulted ceiling. Travertine marble glistens under my feet. Groups of dolled-up people gather on deep-blue, velvet couches drinking martinis and champagne. A split staircase with a decorative wrought-iron railing curls to a second floor, where I presume the guest rooms are located. Down on the far end of the lobby, I spy the restaurant where we’re scheduled to eat in fifteen minutes.

I’ve got just enough time to get my room key and deposit my overnight bag upstairs. I don’t see Mitchell anywhere, so I make my way to the reception desk, where an older gentleman with a bow tie nods solemnly at me and says it would be his pleasure to assist me. Mitchell said he’d be securing me a room, but now that I see the place, I feel bad that he dropped what was probably hundreds—maybe even a thousand—for me to stay overnight.

“Here you are, sir. Room Four-Fifty-Two.” The gent takes a bit longer than I hope, and I keep an eye on the doorway until he hands me my key—a solid black card that’s made of the same material as fancy, heavy credit cards. “Do you need bag assistance today?”

“No, thanks. I’ve got it.” I wheel my suitcase to the stairs—the glass elevator looks crowded, and I’m only up four floors—and take them two at a time. Don’t exactly want to show up to my meeting late, so when I reach my room, I shove my suitcase inside the door then hurry back to the lobby to wait for Mitchell. But as I descend the stairs toward the lobby, everything seizes up in my chest.

Because there, gliding in from the rain, is a vision in shimmering red.

Marilee stops in the middle of the lobby clutching a small purse. She glances this way and that—everywhere but at me—as if she is looking for someone or something. Her bottom lip is caught in her teeth, a sure sign of nerves, but I don’t know how she could feel anything but amazing in the satin gown that hugs her curves all the way down to the tops of her white strappy heels. Her hair’s pinned up, leaving just enough curls down to frame her face and sweep the tops of her shoulders. The dress isn’t anything complicated, with its straight-across neckline and two thick off-the-shoulder straps that hug her upper arms.

But on Marilee, it might as well be a designer gown fit for the red carpet, because I’ve never seen a woman look as stunning as her.

I somehow reach the bottom step without stumbling and make my way toward her.

Just before I reach her side, she turns to find me there. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi, yourself.” I stick my hands in my pockets, because otherwise I will reach for her and never let go. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, well.” Her eyes dart to and fro before finding mine again. “I got hungry and heard this place had the best steaks.” She shrugs her little shoulders.

But she isn’t fooling me. “Is that right? Huh. I was told the same thing by Mitchell McGraff this morning.”

She scrunches her nose. “Were you really? What a coincidence.”

“Is it?”

Pressing her glossy lips together, Marilee pretends to think. “I’m going with a solid maybe.” Then her eyes shutter again, and she waves her hand toward the restaurant. “But since we’re both here, and dressed up so nice, and Blake and Lucy are watching Ryder…you wanna eat?”

“I could eat.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.” I glance around casually, like I don’t know what’s really going on here. Though to be honest, I am a little confused about what exactly has transpired. But hey, I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. “I just need to find Mitchell and let him know someone better came along.”

“About that.”

“Mmm hmm?”

“Chloe-may-have-called-him-up-this-morning-and?—”

---