Talon

My decision comes fast. "If your nutty little group can find me the woman of my dreams, trust me, I ain't gonna cheat on her."

"That's the goal, Talon. You just have to have an open mind and heart."

Squeezing the heart-shaped stress ball on her desk, I grin at her. "All right, Mom. You're on. Challenge accepted. Let's see if you can find the perfect chick for me."

Chapter 4

Asia

I'm at my archaic sewing machine trying to piece together what's supposed to be a dress when Kat comes flying into my apartment.

"Your worries are over, my dear friend. I have found the most epic solution to your problem, and it literally landed right on my desk." She heads straight for my refrigerator and pours herself a glass from a pitcher of fruit-infused water I made the day before.

"Which problem might that be?"

She produces a wrinkled up piece of paper from her purse that's got scribbles and yellow highlighter all over it. "Your man problem," she says.

"Kat…no. I'm fine."

"You're not. You haven't gotten laid in three years, girl. You're twenty-five years old. As your best friend, I cannot let your vag suffer for another year."

Scowling at her in disgust, I pull the dress out from the machine. "My vag is fine, thank you very much."

"That material is fabulous!" she exclaims, fingering the soft, patterned dress. "You will have to make me something from this. And your vag is not fine; it’s a desolate black hole screaming for love and pounding."

"I'm pretty sure it's not."

"It is. I can hear it. But this—" she holds up the paper "—is going to change that. And so much more."

Rubbing my head as it starts to throb, I squint at the paper. "What is that?"

"This is the coolest social experiment I have ever heard of."

Anything with the word "experiment" in it cannot be good. "I'm already scared, but go on."

"Well, Dr. Hollister is heading up this project. I've been typing up all the notes and outlines for her, and I just got so excited, because this is the coolest thing ever. If I didn't have a guy already, I'd be begging her to let me join in on this."

"Dr. Hollister, your boss? The relationship expert?" Kat is basically a secretary and research assistant.

"She prefers relationship coach, but yes. So what they're doing is meeting with a bunch of single people like yourself and putting them through this crazy-ass interview process, and then they match you up with the perfect partner. Then, you marry them and live together for six months—like legit marriage, a wedding, all that shizz."

I stare at her in horror, completely dumbstruck by the mere idea of this, but she ignores my expression and continues. "During that time, you have to keep a detailed journal of everything that happens, even the juicy stuff. At the end of the six months, you can either stay with the guy, if things are working out, or you get a divorce. And, are you ready for this?" She steps closer to me. "You get paid fifty-thousand dollars. Asia, this could change your life. You might find an amazing husband, and you will finally be able to get out of this fucking ghetto! Either way, it's a total win."

Cringing at her ghetto comment, I stand up and carry my dress over to my worktable in the corner. "Or I could end up heartbroken. Or pregnant. Or with a total asshole. Or murdered, cut up, and left in a freezer somewhere. Seriously, it's a crazy idea."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Please. This is run by a team of psychologists and experts. Everyone will be evaluated before they are chosen. Dr. Hollister is very serious about her work. She's not going to let a bunch of freaks participate in this and cause her embarrassment."

Fifty-thousand dollars. That kind of money is the equivalent of living on Mars to me. It will seriously never happen. But if it did? Holy crap, I cannot even fathom how different my life could be, to have some financial stability. To live somewhere safe. To not worry about how I'm going to feed myself and my cat.

But even more so, what if they really could find me the perfect husband? Someone who would love me and care about me, and let me love and care about them. Someone to grow old with. Is it possible, with the help of some kind of love coach, that I could meet—and actually marry—a guy who's perfect for me?

And, hopefully, who I'm perfect for?

Is that even possible?

Kat stands there with a smile as I mull this all around in my head. "I see you thinking about it, Asia. And yeah, it’s a pretty wild idea, huh?"

"Okay, a little…but scary too. Marrying a stranger? Do you have any idea how awkward that would be?"

She grabs on to my arm excitedly. "But what if it's like this amazing love-at-first-sight moment? What could possibly be cooler?"

Shaking my head wildly, I fold up the dress so I can get back to it later when she's gone. "No. It's unnatural and dangerous."

"Arranged marriages used to be very popular."

"Used to be being the important part of that sentence."

Crossing her arms, she taps her foot against my chipped tile floor. "Asia, I want you to think about this. I talked to Dr. Hollister about you and she thinks you would be perfect, but she would love to meet you for a preliminary interview. She said you're the exact kind of woman she wanted for this."

Geez. What the heck does that mean? "Um? What kind of woman am I?"

"One who is supersweet, intelligent, pretty, normal, but just cannot meet the right guy. The only issue is your financial status. They need to be sure the applicants aren't in it just for the money."

I glare at her, annoyed with her incessant digs at my unfortunate lifestyle. Not everyone is lucky enough to be born into a great family that doesn't abandon you at seventeen with no money or place to live. The fact that I'm not dead, working a pole, or turning tricks is something I'm actually proud of.

"Well, I apologize for having to live on ramen noodles, Kat, but it is what it is. I can't hide it. And if they are so worried about people getting involved in the experiment just for the fifty G's, why are they even offering it?

She shrugs and lays the piece of paper with her notes on my wobbly kitchen table. "Compensation, I guess."

"Marrying a great person should be compensation enough."

"Well, there ya go. You're perfect for this, just as I knew you would be."

I throw an infinity scarf at her that I made from the fabric she was just saying she loved. "I made this for you earlier. Please don't make me choke you with it," I tease.

She squeals over it and hugs me. "You're the bestest friend ever! I love you!"

* * *

Later that night as I'm soaking in my bathtub reading a paperback I've read about ten times already, my mind keeps wandering back to Kat's insane idea about my getting involved in that marriage experiment. As scary as it sounded, if it really worked, and they actually found me the right man, it would be amazing. No more bad dates. No more wondering if I'm ever going to meet the right guy. No more spending every night alone. No more watching other people get engaged, get married, and have kids while I'm still alone. No more having no one to snuggle with.

But if it didn't work, it could be devastating. What if I fall in love with him, but he doesn't fall in love with me? Being rejected by a guy who is supposed to be my perfect match will hurt way worse than some blind-date rejection. Where can I go from an expert failure? I think at that point I would have to throw in the towel and admit I am just not relationship material for anyone. I'm not sure I'm ready for that kind of reality dose.

An old favorite song of mine comes on from the small radio in the corner of the bathroom. It's a slow, sexy rock ballad, and the guitarist plays with so much raw emotion that every time I hear it, it gives me chills and I have to close my eyes and let it take over my senses. I want a man who can make me feel like this song does, someone who makes me lose myself in the way he can make me feel. Closing my eyes and sinking deeper into my bath, I wonder if I can put that on my application for the marriage experiment.

Give me a man who makes me feel like the guitar solo of "Hope Dies Last."

Chapter 5

Asia

"Asia, it's Dr. Hollister. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

Cradling the phone against my ear with my shoulder, I run my hands under my kitchen faucet real quickly to rinse off the oils I was just using to make custom soaps.

"Yes, of course." I grab a towel and dry my hands. "How's everything going?"

"Very well! I have good news for you," she says, and my heart immediately starts to beat faster with anticipation. "We have found a match for you, if you are still interested and available to take part in the marriage experiment?"

"Oh wow. Yes!" I say a little too excitedly. "I definitely still want to. I was afraid since some time has passed, maybe it wasn't going to happen."

"Not at all, we were just combining our best efforts to team up the couples we felt would be best together."

"I'm so excited I feel dizzy. So, what happens now?" Slightly rattled, I fall onto my old, lumpy couch and my cat immediately jumps up next to me, proceeding to rub her forehead up and down my arm.

"I just spoke to your match and he is also on board. We would like to set the wedding date three months from now. That will give everyone enough time to plan and get things together. Kimberly will be in touch with both of you to go over all the details; she will be the liaison between you and your groom. You will not be able to speak with him directly in any manner, so her job is to shuffle information back and forth between you both—such as the guest list, menu choices, the cake, everything."

"I can't believe this is really happening."

"It's really happening," she singsongs. "The team and I are so excited for you and the other participants. You have all been so patient and so incredibly honest. You have each been invaluable."