How to Hunt a Husband

by Jacobs, Holly

  She sighed and took a sip of her drink. “Tonight’s date was a prime example. I told her no. No more dates. I have plans, you see. I want to live a solitary, chick-flick, hairy-legged life. But she invited me out to dinner with her and my father. At least that was the story. They were at the restaurant, all right, but so was he. His name was Neil. He works with Mom and Dad at the college.”

  “Doing what?” Nate prompted.

  “A philosophy professor. Mom and Dad had a mysterious lab emergency. Have you ever heard of a lab emergency?”

  Nate shook his head.

  “Me either. Anyway, they left Neil to entertain me while we finished eating.”

  “You don’t look overly entertained,” Nate said with a chuckle.

  Frustrated. That’s how she looked.

  Nate could sympathize. His mom had planned her own set-ups these last few months.

  “Oh, Nate, you don’t know the half of it. Neil spent the rest of the dinner talking about things so deep my head was spinning. It’s not that I’m dumb, but he was intentionally being pompously difficult. Then he turned the subject to how Kepler’s observations of heavenly bodies impacted our way of viewing the world around us, and added that he’d like a chance to spend more time studying my heavenly body …”

  Shannon drained her glass. “Well, I finished my spare ribs faster than anybody should and I hope Neil was feeling philosophical about my emphatic rejection of his heavenly-body proposal. There was absolutely no way I was impacting with him.”

  “Most men aren’t overly philosophical about rejections,” Nate pointed out.

  “Yeah, he didn’t seem very pleased. My mom called my cellphone to apologize for their emergency and to see how the rest of the meal went. I told her that I left right after the entree because I didn’t want to be Neil’s dessert. That’s when she accused me of being picky and I said if she didn’t watch it, I’d show her how non-picky I could be by picking a man that would fry her butt. I mean a biker, with long greasy hair, and tattoos, or something. She’d be off my case about marriage quicker than she could light a Bunsen burner.”

  “Yeah, rebellion has its place. My mother wants me to grow up and settle down, though maybe not quite as bad as your mother wants you to. Mom keeps pointing out I’m thirty and that it’s time to become an adult. But to be honest, I don’t recall ever having a childhood, so I’ve staged my own mini-rebellion. I’ve decided it’s time to do some of the things I’ve always wanted to do but was too busy with school or establishing a career to try.”

  Nate took a sip of his cola and continued. “I thought about tattoos, as a matter of fact, but I didn’t think it would go over well with my customers.”

  “Customers? What do you do?” Shannon asked.

  Nate smiled and replied, “I’m a pharmacist. I can’t see my customers being comfortable with me tattooed. And you? What do you do when you’re not out on bad dates?”

  “I’m a high school art teacher.”

  “Too bad you weren’t a stripper or something. I could take you home and scare my mother out of rushing me into marriage.”

  “Yeah,” Shannon said, wistfulness in her voice. “If only I was a stripper and you were a greasy-biker, life would be perfect.”

  They both paused and though he didn’t know her well, he could see she realized the opportunity they had in front of them at the same moment he did.

  Nate weighed the possibility. After all, he didn’t need an actual stripper. He just needed his mother to believe he’d brought home a stripper.

  “I just bought a bike,” Nate said slowly. “A Harley Fat Boy.”

  “You did?” Shannon asked, something akin to awe in her voice.

  Nate nodded. “So if we told your parents I was a biker, it wouldn’t actually be a lie.”

  He didn’t mention the fact that he still questioned his abilities to actually ride the bike.

  “And I do take my clothes off every night to put on pajamas, so I guess you could say I strip.”

  They both laughed and let the idea grow. “You know, if I took you home disguised as a stripper and told my parents I was in love with you—a woman who takes off clothes for a living—my mother might get off my back about babies, at least for a while.”

  “Your mother would hate a stripper daughter-in-law as much as my mother would hate a biker son-in-law.”

  She grinned. “Oh, it’s too perfect. Kismet even. My mother would have to rethink her wedding plans if I brought you in and introduced you as the man in my life. The only man I’d even consider marrying.”

  Nate thought his mother was a bit of a pain, but Shannon’s mother sounded certifiable. “Um, you didn’t really explain why your mother is already planning your wedding, even though there’s no groom in sight.”

  “Well, it all started when my sister—the good daughter—ran out on her wedding with the best man. She changed her name from Mary Kathryn to Kate, and changed her man from Seth to Tony. She also changed careers.”

  “From?” he found himself asking, even though he wasn’t sure he was following Shannon’s explanation.

  “From research scientist and professor, to employee at Donetti’s Irish Pub and Cooked Sushi Bar.”

  “Cooked sushi?” he echoed.

  Maybe it wasn’t just Shannon’s mother who was crazy … maybe it was her whole family.

  “It’s a long story,” she warned.

  “I’ve got all night. And we’ll need each other’s full stories if we’re going to entertain this plan.”

  Shannon took a deep breath and started, “Well Mary Kathryn and Seth were best friends who decided to marry because it seemed like the logical thing to do …”

  Nate half-listened to Shannon’s story unfold. The rest of his mind was occupied wondering just how she’d looked dressed up like a stripper.

  The mental images were tantalizing.

  This might be a crazy plan, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

  And this mental image of Shannon disguised as a stripper was making Nate feel quite desperate.

  Chapter Two

  “Nate, is that you?” Judy Calder called out as Nate entered his parents’ home the next morning.

  Normally Nate would have to suppress a groan, knowing the course his conversation with his mother would be taking.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t love his mother. Of course he loved her. Loved her a lot. After all, how could you not love a woman who almost died giving birth to you?

  But this week the only thing he was suppressing was a grin.

  He followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen. “Yeah, Mom it’s me. Where’s Dad?”

  His father could generally be counted on to run interference on the grandbaby nagging front, not that Nate wanted too much interfering today. He had the plan, after all.

  A delightful plan.

  A perfect plan.

  A mother-proof plan.

  A plan guaranteed to buy him some much needed respite from his mother’s pleas.

  “Your father was on call and had to run into the store,” she said.

  “I just stopped in to check that little leak you were having under the sink,” he said from the doorway.

  The kitchen was next-to blinding. Bright yellow walls, brilliant white cabinets, sparkling surfaces. A floor you could probably actually eat off of.

  Judy Calder believed in everything being just-so, whether it was her kitchen or her son’s life.

  She turned from the counter. In her late fifties, his mom didn’t look her age at all. Slim and brunette, she was often mistaken as Nate’s sister when they were out together.

  They might find his mother was young looking, but no one ever mistook his father, Paul Calder, as his brother. His dad had been grey since Nate could remember and he blamed his wife for every one of those grey hairs. But years of watching how much his father doted on his mom, Nate suspected it was merely genetics, because the two of them were obviously meant for each other.

 
“Oh, honey, that’s so sweet of you to stop and see about the sink. But it’s okay. I called a plumber. After all, you know you’re not any more mechanical than your father is.”

  He opened the small door off the kitchen that led to the laundry room and grabbed his father’s toolbox from the corner.

  “Not mechanical? Mom, how can you say that? After all, who fixed the dryer just last week?”

  “You kicked it, dear.”

  “It stopped making the noise right after that.”

  His mother didn’t understand the finer art of home repair. Nate’s opinion was, when something worked, don’t fix it, and when something didn’t work, try kicking it first. In this case, kicking was all that was called for.

  “Why it was practically purring when I finished,” he said as he set the toolbox down on the counter and opened it up.

  His mom shook her head and kissed his cheek. “And it started squeaking again about ten minutes after you left. I got out the spray lubricant, unscrewed the back of the machine and sprayed all over. It hasn’t squeaked since.”

  “It was my kick that took care of it.”

  His mother looked ready to contest the point, so he hastily went on, “But, I won’t argue. Just let me have a look at the sink. If I don’t think I can handle it, we’ll just let the plumber come. But do you know how much they charge for a service call?”

  Slowly, his mother backed away and gave him room to open the cabinet doors. Nate rolled up his sleeves and slid down and under the sink.

  “Probably not as much as the roofer charged when he had to fix your patch job,” his mom muttered.

  “I heard that,” Nate called as he studied the silver U-ish pipe over his head.

  “I wanted you to. And speaking of hearing, I need you to listen. No excuses that you didn’t hear me this time. You’re coming to dinner Friday night. It’s Sunday, so that’s five days notice.”

  He wiggled the U-ish looking pipe. “This seems loose. Hand me the big pipe wrench, okay?”

  She handed the wrench to him as she continued, “About dinner on Friday. I’m going to invite Jocelyn and her daughter Kay over.”

  “No.”

  Too bad he couldn’t kick the pipe. He could barely get his torso under the sink. But he gave it a couple good thwacks with the wrench just in case that was all it would take. But the pipe just seemed even looser after that and not fixed at all, so he tried to get the wrench around the big bolt that held the sections together.

  “And I’m going to make that pot roast you like,” his mom continued.

  “I hate pot roast. I like pork roast and sauerkraut.”

  His mother always forgot what his favorite dishes were. He thought it was some passive-aggressive way of getting back at him for not giving her grandchildren yet.

  “And I’ll make some of my delicious homemade dinner rolls.”

  “They’re like bricks.”

  “And you’re going to love Kay—”

  “Kay? Couldn’t her parents give her a whole name? Kay. I could never love a woman who’s name was just an initial.”

  “—and maybe she’ll be the one you finally marry. Then the two of you will give my grandbabies. Lots and lots of grandbabies. I’ve met Kay. She’s built for babies. Wide hips, you know.”

  He thought of Shannon. He wouldn’t call her hips wide. Not that they were too thin. No, they looked perfectly proportioned to the rest of her body.

  His mother would be disappointed.

  He grinned—thankful he was hidden under the sink—ready to launch the plan he and narrow-hipped Shannon had devised. “Sorry mom. Kay sounds delightful. But I’m seeing someone.”

  “Since when?”

  He could hear the suspicion in her voice.

  Deciding to stick to the truth when possible, he said, “Last night, at Mick’s place. They’re friends.”

  “You met her in a bar? Nice girls don’t go to bars and pick up men,” his mother assured him.

  “She didn’t pick me up, I picked her up.”

  Mick had practically had to throw them out so he could close because they’d sat and talked so long. The plan was simple. They’d use each other as a weapon to diffuse their mutual mothers’ matrimonial designs.

  One bad-ass biker and a stripper to the rescue.

  “Well, nice girls don’t let men pick them up in bars,” his mother humphed.

  “This one did.”

  He finally got the big pipe wrench to grip the bolt that connected the pipes and turned it.

  The pipe fell off with just the first half turn and landed on Nate’s nose. “Ow!”

  “What did you do to my sink?” his mother yelled.

  “Your sink?” he hollered back and he shimmied out from under the cabinet, gripping his aching, moist feeling nose. “Your sink? What about my nose? I think it’s sunk into my face.”

  “I always thought your nose was too big anyway. It could use some sinking. You have your father’s nose, and he doesn’t have an attractive one.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Nate grabbed the towel held it to his nose, trying to stem the flow of blood. “Can you bleed to death from your nose?”

  “No. Now what about my sink? You broke it didn’t you? And now the plumber is going to charge me twice as much.”

  “Mom, I’m dying and you’re worried about your sink and money? That shouldn’t be the biggest concern of a devoted mother. My bleeding to death should be.”

  She folded her arms across her chest, obviously not feeling overly devoted. “What did you do to my sink?”

  “The bolt that held the pipes together was obviously loose, which is probably why it was leaking and it explains why it fell off so easily. I’ll just tighten it back down and you should be fine.”

  “That’s what you say. But I remember that time you were going to cut down that tree in the backyard. You broke my chain saw.”

  “Mom, I’d cut almost all the way through that branch and was trying to pull it down when that big one over top of it fell instead … you’re lucky it crushed the saw, not your son.”

  “Well, I was rather partial to that saw,” she said with a mischievous grin. “Let’s face it honey, though I adore you, you’re not very handy.”

  “Gee, your faith in me makes me feel special. And speaking of feeling special, I’ve got a new girl now, so you can cancel Friday night’s dinner with the wide-hipped, initial girl.”

  Maybe just mentioning a new woman would be enough to get his mother off his case for a while. If it worked, they wouldn’t have to move on to the second part of their plan.

  “No, I won’t cancel dinner,” she said. “Though I won’t invite Kay. Instead you can bring this bar floozy to meet your mother.”

  She lifted the towel and peeked under it as his nose. “I think it stopped bleeding, but you’re going to have quite a mark.”

  Nate gingerly felt his nose, and though it seemed swollen, it didn’t feel as if he’d broken it.

  “Wonder how the floozy will feel about your new nose,” his mom added.

  “She’s not a floozy, exactly. She’s a nice girl.”

  “Who got picked up in a bar.”

  “Mom, our first official date’s Friday. You don’t take a girl to dinner at your mom’s on the first date.”

  He grinned. Arguing with his mother was a part of the plan. After all, if he gave in too easily, she’d suspect something. She was a sly one, his mom.

  But he was slyer.

  Much slyer.

  Why, if he hadn’t become a pharmacist, he probably could have been a spy, he was so wily.

  “Maybe you should bring over more first dates. After all, you’ve never brought one here before, and I still have no grandbabies. Maybe if you bring this girl here now, she’ll realize you’re serious about this relationship.”

  “You said she was a floozy. Why would you want me to be serious about a girl like that? And who said I was serious? It’s our first date. We just sat at the bar and drank last night, so tha
t doesn’t count. If I bring her here for dinner she’ll think I’m—”

  “A nice guy,” his mom interrupted. “She’ll think you’re a nice guy. Dinner will be at seven. Don’t be late.”

  She leaned over and glanced under the sink. “Now fix my sink.”

  If he’d become a spy instead of a pharmacist he’d name his missions. He thought of possibilities as they started to reattach the pipe.

  Operation Meddling Mothers. Yeah, that was perfect.

  Operation Meddling Mothers was about to begin.

  “Mom?”

  Shannon had already agreed to Sunday dinner with her parents—and no one else—before she met Nate. She had expected to find the ordeal trying. But now, despite her mother’s new marry-off-Shannon campaign—or rather because of it—she was looking forward to the evening.

  “Oh, Shannon there you are. I have so much news. I’ve been busy,” her mother said as Shannon walked into the house at promptly four-thirty.

  “Me, too,” she said, kissing her mother’s cheek.

  Her mom patted the chair next to her. Shannon sat as her mother exclaimed in an excited, breathless voice, “I’m sorry that your dinner with Neil didn’t work out.”

  “Mom, you have to stop setting me up. I’m not interested.”

  As if Shannon hadn’t even spoken, her mother continued, “I’ve got you a date for next Saturday night! A nice boy. His name is Shelby.”

  “Sorry, Mom, no can do.”

  “Now, Shannon, there you go, being difficult again. I know you have name issues and you think I haven’t thought about how Shelby and Shannon sound together. But I have. It’s not a Shannon-Bonnie thing. Oh, I know, I know you’re going to say that whenever someone says your names together, other people with think they’re being shushed, but really, dear, that’s a very narrow view. A man is more than his name.”

  “Mom, really it’s not his name—”

  “And I know that you think this entire wedding thing is just about my bet with that woman, and maybe that’s what instigated it, but Shannon, dear, let’s face it you’re not getting any younger. It’s time you settled down and found happiness. Why your father has endowed my life with such joy. I want you to find a man as endowed as he is.”