I can't believe I'm filling this out. There's gotta be 3,000 questions on this thing.

I click "next" at the bottom of the page. Make that 4,000.

If Grant hadn't spoken so highly of Raven's services I'd have called this off when she said "background check."

Grant's so damn happy with Amelia. They're two years in and just announced their second baby's on the way. I'm sure I'll be getting another fucking Christmas card with them dressed in matching outfits in front of the damn tree any day now.

They even dress the damn dog up.

It's so cute it makes me want to puke.

That's what I tell my brother. I roll my eyes and make retching noises and tease the bastard that I have to ask Amelia if he can have his fucking balls back long enough to go hunting with me, but the truth of the matter is that it kills me because I'm so damn jealous.

I wasn't one of the people that Raven interviewed when Grant used her services to find Amelia. That was the year I was out of the country. Out of touch really. Off the grid, only checking in via email now and then to let everyone know I'd made it across another South American border without getting killed or arrested.

So I missed out on all the fun when our sister and parents were interviewing candidates and deciding who my baby brother was going to marry.

I still remember reading Mom's email when I finally found a hotel with wifi after being stuck for 14 hours at the Honduras border. Worst border crossing of the whole trip.

Grant was getting hitched, to some girl he'd never even met! He'd found Raven's agency through some buddy of his and he was gung ho on finding himself a wife and starting a family.

At the time I thought it sounded crazy. Paying some crazy new age match maker to set you up. And this Raven chick doesn't deal with dating or hooking up, no way. She's serious. Her clients are looking for the real deal. If marriage isn't what you're looking for, you aren't looking to do business with Raven Swann.

There's no keeping it secret. You can't play off how you met by making up some story. Raven deals in arranged marriages. After an extensive application process, her clients are essentially left out of the process while their closest friends and family get to interview the prospective matches.

I'm on day three of the extensive application process.

Fuck if I know what I'm doing. All these questions are stupid as fuck. Who cares what kind of toothpaste I use, or whether I prefer sleeping with my socks on? What does this shit have to do with finding the perfect woman for me?

I lean back in my chair and let my eyes unfocus for a minute. I've been staring at the damn computer screen for the last two hours trying to finish this up.

I can't believe I'm going through with this.

I'm not going to spend another year alone though. I won't make it through another holiday season, watching my folks gush over grandkids that I haven't given them yet, listening to Grant talk about his vacation plans with his new family, watching the way Amelia looks at him like he hung the damn moon.

I want that.

I want what my brother has and I don't want to waste any more time trying to find it on my own.

I close my eyes for a minute and think about what kind of woman Raven will find for me. What kind of woman my friends and family will find for me, actually.

She's gonna have to be ready for kids, that's for sure. I want kids yesterday. I never thought of myself as daddy material but watching my buddies from college and the way they swell with pride when their kids do something for the first time, and the way little Taylor hangs on to Grant's neck when he holds her.

Turns me to fucking mush. And I have to shrug it off and make some dumbass joke about my brother being pussy-whipped so no one sees how it tears my heart out I want it so bad.

Of course, I'm not lookin' to trade sex for babies. Hell no. I need a woman who loves cock. Who loves my cock. And not just in missionary position with the lights off either. Fuck that. I want a woman who feels beautiful in front of me, I'll make sure my woman feels beautiful in front of me. I'll make sure she knows she's worshiped every day. But she's gotta enjoy sex. In every position and in every room of the house.

That's the thought that has me forgetting about the application a little longer.

I imagine a sexy woman with a curvy body, spread out on my bed in front of me. She'll be naked and looking at me with her eyes glazed over with lust as she touches herself, begging me to take her.

Oh yeah. I don't care if she's a moaner or a screamer. I don't care if she's blonde or brunette or a redhead with all that pale skin and freckles.

That's not the shit that matters to me.

I just want someone to love, someone who loves me back. And loves having my hands on her, because I plan on putting them on her a lot.

I pull myself out of my fantasies and go back to answering the questionnaire. The sooner I get through this, the sooner I get to meet my wife.

* * *