Page 22

chapter eight

“Sometimes, the best moments in life are counted by the number of steps you take in the wrong direction. Trust me. My friend, Jason, has been walking in the wrong direction a long-ass time. Last time I counted his wrong steps, I fell asleep. The point is this, his bad choices remind me to make good choices. What else is friendship for? Count your friends’ mistakes — and consider yourself lucky they aren’t yours. Oh… and his name is Jason Caro. Check the spelling and check out his Instagram. Dude’s like one more failed relationship away from buying a house full of cats and just sitting in his sadness.”

~From Max Emory’s Guide to Dating and Other Important Life Lessons

Jason

He was back.

I wasn’t sure how I could tell, or the exact moment I knew it. Maybe it was when my balls tingled, when a cold sweat started to break out on my forehead, or, possibly, when I tried to get into my truck only to see that someone had deposited another fifty signs in the back.

But my body knew.

The universe was screwed.

And so was the town of New Haven.

“I’ve been watching you,” Max said from behind me.

I looked up to the sky and prayed for a lightning bolt.

Thunder.

A bee.

At this point, I would take anything.

Slowly, I turned. “Max.”

“Jason.” He grinned.

I hated how good-looking the guy was. I hated how many women fell all over themselves because they thought he was hilarious and hot. And I really despised how his rabid fans had been nothing but encouraged by his damn book and tweets.

The amount of dating advice that had been sent to me via the internet from his helpful fans was alarming.

I’d changed my email at least once every two months.

And my cell number.

Well, let’s just say each time Max discovered the new number, he felt the need to tweet it into the universe.

He was “doing me a favor,” you see.

By tryingto help me, “find a woman.”

“Impregnate her.”

And, “live on a farm.”

His words.

His plans.

The man needed a keeper.

You want to see what money and boredom do to someone? Look no further than Max Emory.

“What do you want?” I crossed my arms and waited.