How to Hunt a Husband

by Jacobs, Holly

  “Really?” she asked, her voice a whisper.

  “Really. Thinking of you in your powder blue oxford shirt, jeans and sneakers, so proper on the outside, but knowing you have these on underneath, and that I’m the only one who knows about them … I think I’d like it.”

  She was sitting next to him, and his hands were moving all over her, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of her body.

  “Move a bit closer,” he murmured, pulling her next to him, so that their thighs touched.

  She was falling back under his spell … falling hard. “I don’t know, Bull. Mama says bikers are dangerous,” she murmured.

  “Yeah we are. Live on the wild side.”

  “Now, where were we?” he asked.

  Chapter Eight

  Shannon woke up to the sensation of warmth and weight. It took a moment for her sleep-fogged mind to register just what that meant.

  Somebody was in her bed.

  More specifically, Nathan, aka Bull, Calder was next to her, hogging the covers.

  Even more specifically … she liked it.

  This was the second time she’d woken up next to him.

  She smiled as she inched closer to him until the length of him was pressed against her back. He shifted in his sleep, wrapping his arms around her.

  She’d slept with Nate, both figuratively and literally.

  The thought kept chasing itself around in her brain. It was easier to acknowledge the sleeping part than the part that came before they slept.

  This was just a friendship that extended to the bedroom.

  Which made it hard to classify what they did as making love, but making love is exactly how it felt to Shannon even if she couldn’t call it that. She wasn’t sure what to call it.

  Sex sounded too raw and hard.

  She thought of the terms she’d overheard kids at school use. Most sounded worse than sex.

  Then she hit on boinking and smiled. It sounded light and fun, sort of like what they’d done.

  If what they’d done wasn’t making love, then it was by its very definition light.

  She remembered how they’d laugh about the pleather pants incident. She’d never laughed in the middle of … boinking.

  Light and fun.

  She’d boinked Nathan Calder.

  He wasn’t her boyfriend. He was a friend who was male. A partner.

  And so they weren’t lovers and they were no longer just friend and allies.

  They were … boink-buddies.

  She laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  She turned and looked at the man next to her.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t,” he assured her. “I’ve been awake for a while now.”

  “Why didn’t you get up?”

  “I was just enjoying the scenery.”

  “Scenery?” She didn’t have a window in the room you could see from her bed. Suddenly his meaning occurred to her. “Oh.”

  He grinned. “So, why were you laughing?”

  “I was just trying to define …” she hesitated, “Well, this. What we have between us.”

  He shifted slightly, reminding Shannon she was naked in bed with him.

  “And did you?” he asked, his voice low and … well, sexy.

  Shannon didn’t feel sexy. She felt naked and more than a little rumpled.

  “Did you, Shannon-me-love?”

  “Did I what?” she asked, unsure what they’d been talking about, but totally sure that whatever it was, wasn’t nearly as enthralling as the naked man next to her.

  “Did you decide how to define us?” he asked.

  “Yep. You said bedroom buddies, but I have a much better term.”

  “Are you going to tell me?” He reached out and toyed with her hair.

  This was definitely better than hairy legs and chick-flicks.

  “Shannon?” he murmured. “What’s your new term for us?”

  She grinned. “Boink-buddies.”

  “What?” he asked.

  “Well, I couldn’t quite define us as lovers.”

  “Why not?”

  She’d expected to hear laughter in his voice when she’d revealed her term for their relationship. But that didn’t sound like humor, but more like annoyance. She shifted slightly, putting space between them.

  “Why wouldn’t you define us as lovers?” he pressed.

  “Because we’re not. You don’t love me. I don’t love you. We like each other. We’re partners. Friends. A friendship that extends to the bedroom. Remember?”

  Nate remembered all right. After all, he’d been the one spouting that nonsense last night. And last night it had sounded perfectly logical and completely desirable to just be bedroom buddies.

  But this morning?

  He didn’t want logic.

  He didn’t want to be just friends who slept together.

  And he didn’t want what he’d done with Shannon reduced to such a frivolous term as boink-buddies.

  What they’d done had been … magic. He winced at the term. It sounded way too sentimental for him to be using, but it was accurate.

  Magic.

  What they’d done together had been so much more than anything he’d ever experienced, and Shannon was doing her best to minimize it.

  “Nate, what’s wrong?” she asked softly.

  “Nothing,” he said, though he knew it for the lie it was. There was something more than just boinking between him and Shannon.

  Making love?

  It certainly sounded more accurate than boinking.

  Normally using a phrase like making love would be what made him grimace. But not this time. Not with Shannon.

  Yet, he didn’t point the fact out to her. Why? Because using the term out loud would give it a power he wasn’t sure he was willing to give.

  She moved further away from him.

  “I think I’m going to grab a shower, if you don’t mind,” she said. “Obviously you’re not a morning person.”

  “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  He heard the sharpness in his voice, but was annoyed enough that he didn’t try and temper it.

  “You’re grumpy and quiet. I’ll just let you wake up while I get dressed.”

  “Fine.”

  She wrapped the top blanket around her, and took it with her as she got out of the bed. He wasn’t going to even get to enjoy the view.

  Great.

  What had looked like it might be a promising morning suddenly looked as if it couldn’t get any worse.

  Shannon had her shower, then headed to the kitchen. The atmosphere was oppressing.

  Nate was still quiet and Shannon wasn’t sure if it was indeed just a morning mood. He seemed put out about something.

  Maybe he regretted what they’d done.

  Maybe he thought she’d suddenly start placing all kinds of girl-friend demands on him. Well, she thought as she dug around in the cupboard for a coffee filter, she wasn’t about to do that.

  She didn’t want a significant other any more than he did.

  They were friendly allies and boink-buddies, nothing more, nothing less. That didn’t give either of them any rights to make demands.

  Actually, a demand-less relationship was what they’d planned, so if that’s why he was mad, well he could just get over himself.

  Granted, last night was the best boinking she’d ever had.

  Having a man who could make her laugh even as he made her quiver with desire … well, that was rare and special. A man like that was to be treasured.

  But treasuring didn’t mean owning.

  “Do you want anything to go with the coffee?” Shannon asked the silent, grumpy man sitting at her counter.

  “You can’t cook, remember?”

  “I can make a bowl of cold cereal,” she assured him.

  Okay, so cooking wasn’t her forte, but it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pour some milk.

  “Are you sure? I
—”

  The doorbell interrupted him.

  After the way the morning started, Shannon figured things couldn’t get worse … then the doorbell rang again.

  “Shannon? Open up. It’s your mother.”

  Things had just gone from worse to worse-r.

  “Oh, rats.” She stayed in the kitchen, hiding in case her mother peeked through the door’s small window. “Do you think I can wait her out?”

  “Shannon, I know you’re in there,” her mother called.

  “Nope. I think she knows you’re here. And since my Harley’s out front, I’m betting she knows I’m here as well,” Nate—ever-the-optimist—said.

  “Rats.”

  “Want me to get it?” he offered.

  If she wasn’t still annoyed with his less than pleasant mood this morning, she might sigh and think something like, my hero. But she was annoyed.

  He regretted last night and that was what accounted for his attitude.

  Well, fine. Let him regret it.

  It wasn’t as if she’d built any hopes on a forever sort of relationship with him.

  “Shannon, do you want me to get it?” he asked again.

  She gave her head a little shake. “No. She’s my mother. My problem. But be prepared. You know what she’s going to think.”

  “That we’re sleeping together … oh, no, what’s the term you used? Boinking.” He practically sneered the word. “She’s going to think we’re boinking.”

  “What’s with you this morning?” Shannon asked. Enough was enough. “You’ve been in a mood since we first woke up. Maybe you’re regretting last night, but you don’t have to worry. I won’t be making any demands on you. You set the ground rules and I’m more than happy to live by them. A quick tumble in bed isn’t going to change my desire to remain independent.”

  “Go get the door, Shannon. I’ll finish making the coffee and we can talk about my mood and your potential demands after your company leaves.”

  “Fine.” She walked to the door with all the enthusiasm of a woman walking to the guillotine.

  Nate was regretting last night. He was probably going to tell her he wanted out of the charade and out of their friendship.

  She could get by without ever playing Roxy again, but if Nate left for good … she’d miss him.

  Darn.

  And if that weren’t enough of a problem, her mother was here.

  What else could go wrong today?

  She opened the door, suddenly very aware of her bare feet.

  Why having bare feet should embarrass her, she wasn’t sure. Odds were her mother had seen her feet bare thousands of times. But there it was.

  Bare feet spoke of comfort … of being relaxed.

  Her feet were bare and Nate was in her kitchen making coffee.

  No, the day wasn’t looking overly bright.

  “Good morning, Mom. What’s up?”

  Brigit pushed her way into the foyer. “Shannon Bonnie O’Malley, that man is here.”

  “Yes, he is. I think he’s in the kitchen finishing making coffee. Would you like a cup?”

  “No. It’s eight o’clock on a Sunday morning and there’s a man in your kitchen making coffee. Do you see what’s wrong with this picture?”

  “Yes.” Shannon nodded, trying to look appropriately serious. “I know what’s wrong with this picture, Mom. I’m not in the kitchen drinking that coffee, and you know I function better with a jolt of caffeine coursing through my veins.”

  “Now, Shannon, I realize you’re a grown woman—”

  “Do you mom?” Shannon asked softly.

  “Do I what?”

  “Realize I’m a grown woman?”

  “Of course I do. You and your sister are both grown women, and you know the last thing I want to do is interfere in your lives.”

  “Then why are you here yelling about a man in my kitchen? Why have you spent too many weeks trying to find me a husband? Why—”

  Her next why would have to wait. There was another knock on the door.

  “Did you leave Dad outside?” Shannon asked.

  That would be just like her mom. Leaving her father outside left Shannon without an ally. Her mother liked to use every advantage.

  “No, I left him at home. He doesn’t know that you and Nate are practically living together. It would break the poor man’s heart to know that his daughter is shacking up with a man.”

  “I’m not shacking up. But if it’s not Dad, then who …” Shannon left the question trail off as she opened the door and found herself face to face with Nate’s mom.

  “Mrs. Calder?” she asked weakly.

  “Is Nate here?”

  “Nate?” Shannon’s mom said. “Oh, you mean Bull.”

  “Bull?” Mrs. Calder echoed, obviously confused.

  “Nate’s biker name,” Shannon’s mom supplied.

  “That darned motorcycle,” Mrs. Calder said as she walked into the house. “I hate it. He’s going to get in an accident and kill himself on that thing. Why, he almost did himself in fixing my sink. A man who could injure himself under a sink is a man who shouldn’t be tooling around town on a motorcycle. Really, I hate it.”

  Her mom nodded. “I imagine you do. Look at the slippery slope it dragged Bull down.”

  Mrs. Calder shot her mom a strange look.

  Shannon felt like Alice slipped down the rabbit hole and confronting Tweedle JuDEE and Tweedle Mum.

  Her mom thought Nate was a biker, his mom thought she was a stripper.

  If last night’s dinner meeting was ill-met, then this morning’s gathering was absolutely insane.

  “Let me go get Nate,” she said weakly.

  She needed help here.

  Where was he? It didn’t take this long to make coffee. He was probably hiding. Well, he could just un-hide because while she might be willing to face her mom on her own, no way was she taking on his as well.

  “Why don’t you both make yourself at home, while I go find Nate.”

  “No need,” he said as he padded down the hall. He’d obviously helped himself to a quick shower. He was wearing his jeans from the night before, and one of her old t-shirts. What was a big sloppy t-shirt on her, was tight and emphasized every muscle on his chest.

  Now that Shannon had firsthand knowledge of that chest, the memory made her blood heat up.

  “Mom,” he said, “And Mrs. O’Malley. It’s a bit early to come calling don’t you think?”

  “I tried phoning your cellphone,” Nate’s mom said, “But all I got was your voice mail.”

  “How did you know where Shannon lives, Mom?” Nate asked.

  “I looked it up,” she said, then turned to Shannon. “It’s easy enough to find online. You should really do something about that.”

  Shannon reached out and took Nate’s hand. Whatever annoyance was between them this morning was forgotten as they joined forces to face their common enemies.

  Two enemies at once—before coffee—was too much.

  He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  “Shannon,” her mother said, “Bull’s mother is right. I didn’t realize you were that easy to find. Any of your students could call you at home.”

  “Students?” Mrs. Calder echoed. “Students. That’s a good thing to call them, I guess. They all have so much to learn, which is why I want to start—”

  Nate interrupted her. “Mom, what did you need me for?”

  “Oh, yes. Mick called. He said you were supposed to meet him this morning at seven for some fishing thing?”

  “I entirely forgot.” He turned to Shannon. “We had a fishing date with a bunch of college buddies.”

  “They’re waiting for you, down on the bay,” his mom said.

  “Now, about that coffee,” her mom said.

  “That sounds lovely,” Mrs. Calder said. “I’d love a chance to get to know you.”

  Shannon didn’t want her mother and Mrs. Calder sharing confidences over coffee. Yet, they were moving toward the kitc
hen. She tried to think of something to stop them and cleared her throat, sure that some great idea would come to her before she finished.

  “Ack, ack,” she coughed, stalling for time.

  No great idea appeared.

  She tried again. “Ack, ack.”

  Still nothing.

  The women stopped in their tracks.

  “Shannon, are you all right?” her mother asked.

  “Ack, ack. I think something’s caught in my throat.” She started to hack and sputter, along with the coughing. “Ack, ack.”

  “Shannon?” her mother said, rushing to her side, Mrs. Calder at her heels. “Honey?”

  “Nathan, do something,” his mother said.

  “Ack, ack, ack, ack …” she continued.

  Nathan smacked her back.

  “Ack, ack …”

  It was working. Both mother’s had forgotten about visiting over coffee. They looked concerned as they watched her choke. “Ack, ack.”

  “Nate!” his mother cried.

  He smacked her back harder.

  “Ack, ack …”

  “Nate, I know you think hitting things is the answer to any problem, but I don’t think it’s working.”

  Shannon’s throat was feeling quite raw, so she stopped hacking and said, “I think it’s better. You saved me, Nate.”

  “See,” he said, shooting his mother a rather superior look, “Smacking things does work.”

  “Honey, are you sure you’re okay?” her mom asked.

  “Just let me catch my breath,” she said hoarsely.

  As Shannon bent over, trying to appear as if she was recuperating from her choking spell, she noticed that not only was Nate’s tattoo fading, it had a few huge streaks through it.

  It obviously was a fake and only a matter of time until her mother spotted it. Spotting details was something her mom was good at.

  “Listen, I better get down to the bay before the guys leave me. Thanks for letting me know, Mom,” Nate said, herding his mother toward the door.

  “About that coffee?” his mom asked.

  “I think you two should take a rain check. I need to get going, and Shannon had better go gargle with something.”

  “What if she starts choking again?” her mom asked.

  “Oh, whatever it was, Nate’s smacking dislodged it. I’m fine. We’ll all just have that coffee another time.”