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because she had a Groupon for two-thirds off a single room. After a long hot shower, she fell into bed. She was reaching for the television remote when her uncle Len called.
    “Happy birthday, Peyton,” he said in his slow southern drawl.
    “Happy birthday to you, too,” she replied, smiling.
    She dearly loved her uncle and was a bit in awe of him. Her father’s older brother was a confirmed bachelor and quite the businessman. He owned several resorts, but his favorites were King’s Landing in northern California and Bishop’s Cove in southern Florida. He traveled the world buying and selling properties, so Peyton and her sisters didn’t get to see him all that often, but they could always reach him on his cell phone. No matter where he was or what he was doing, he would stop to chat with them.
    He swore he didn’t have a favorite niece, but it was obvious that he felt closest to Peyton because he talked to her the most. He loved hearing about her adventures in dating. They were always so entertaining. He’d be sympathetic on the phone, but as soon as he disconnected the call, he’d have a good, long laugh.
    She told her uncle about her new job and he seemed genuinely excited for her. Before ending the conversation, he asked, “Had any interesting dates lately?”
    She could hear the amusement in his voice. “Sorry, no,” she said. “But don’t worry. I’m sure there’s an ex-con in Dalton just waiting to ask me out.”
    “You sure know how to pick ’em, darlin’,” he told her.
    He was right. When it came to men and relationships, Peyton had the most god-awful luck. She either turned them into priests or felons. There didn’t seem to be any in-between. Not one but two of her high school crushes “got the call” to go into the seminary. One wanted to become a Jesuit and eventually did; the other, a Dominican. Granted, she attended a Catholic high school, but still, what were the odds of that happening to anyone else? By the time she graduated, she felt she had majored in unrequited love.
    While in college she developed a propensity for dating only misfits. Allen Maxwell made the top five. She met him her first year and liked him immediately, which really should have been a warning. She still hadn’t learned the lesson that, if she liked someone, there had to be something wrong with him. He wasn’t a Catholic, so the odds were in her favor he wouldn’t become a priest. It wasn’t a sure bet, but it was close. She had two dates with Allen before he was arrested and later convicted of selling drugs out of his dorm room. Apparently she was the only student in the entire university who didn’t know about his illegal activity.
    And then there was Brendan Park, the graduate student extraordinaire, who became a millionaire overnight. He, too, made her top five. He blushed whenever he spoke to her and followed her around campus like a lost puppy. Although he was terribly shy, he was persistent, wearing her down until she finally agreed to go out with him. Brendan was a socially awkward computer genius. He certainly wasn’t awkward about hacking into Goldman Sachs and helping himself to a large chunk of stock, though. He was arrested after their one and only date.
    There were others. Josh Triggs came to mind. He wanted to cook dinner for her, but before she accepted, he needed to know if she was allergic to cats. Turned out he had seven of them living with him in his tiny studio apartment. The smell nearly knocked her over as soon as he opened the door. Needless to say, she passed on the dinner.
    Since she was reminiscing, she mustn’t forget Greg Middleson, who could only talk to her using football terms. He once told her how he felt about her by saying, “Sometimes I feel like a quarterback who’s forced into a bootleg without a lead blocker and I have to lateral to a wingman.” She didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, and she didn’t think he did, either.
    It seemed that all the men she