It wasn’t a very manly concern, so he didn’t confess it to Shannon, but there it was. It wasn’t just a small dislike, but more of a minor phobia.
Okay, maybe a major phobia.
Yeah, he was not meant to be tattooed.
“No. No tattoos.”
“Trust me,” Shannon said.
“So what do you think?” Nate asked as he climbed off the motorcycle he’d parked right on her parents’ perfectly manicured lawn.
Oh, her mom would hate a Harley on the lawn, which is why she’d told Nate to park on it.
Shannon stood at the side of the motorcycle, dressed in the most preppy and innocent looking outfit she could mange. A pale blue oxford shirt, a dark blue pair of jeans and white tennis shoes. She wanted to dress in stark contrast to Nate’s outfit.
She’d helped him pick it out and thought they’d done a great job transforming her professional looking pharmacist into a bad-ass biker.
Nate was dressed in a black t-shirt with its arms cut off, and a black leather vest.
Okay, so his hair wasn’t long by anyone’s standard, but he’d done something to it. It looked wild. He’d put on dark glasses that shaded his warm brown eyes. Well-worn, faded black jeans and black leather riding boots finished the ensemble.
Well, almost finished.
“So?” He flexed his arm and the mermaid on his right forearm undulated in a suggestive sort of way.
It was fake, but no one would know it.
Emilio was good. Fantastic, actually, she thought with a great deal of teacherly pride. She’d been working with him privately for a few years. He was one of the best artists she’d ever seen.
The crowning glory of her year was getting him an art scholarship. It felt like a validation for all the time and effort she gave to both her school students and her private ones.
She loved teaching and helping kids learn to appreciate art, while she worked with ones who not only appreciated it, but created it. Occasionally there was one of those rare students who had the type of raw talent that just begged to be developed.
Emilio was one of those.
“My mother’s going to freak out,” she said, admiring Emilio’s work. “Mom’s not into guys with tattoos. She’s hoping for a professional for me. Let’s see, she’s fixed me up with her banker, her accountant, and even tried to fix me up with her gynecologist … I drew the line with that one. Ew. She thinks I need someone who will settle me down.”
“So, she’s hoping for a professional. What are you hoping for?” Nate asked from the other side of the motorcycle, suddenly serious. He peered over the top of his dark glasses, waiting for an answer.
“Someone I can love.” The words out before she could stop herself. She could feel her face heat up. What a stupid, stupid thing to say. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“You’re embarrassed,” Nate said. “Why would wanting to be loved embarrass you?”
“It sounds so … I don’t know, juvenile. But it’s the truth. I want someone special. I’m not settling for less than love just because my mother might lose a bet. I want what she has with my dad, what Kate found with Tony.”
“Good for you.” They walked toward the front door.
Before they reached the steps, she stopped. “And you? What are you looking for?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think guys spend much time thinking about stuff like that.”
“If you don’t think about it, how are you going to know what you want?”
“I guess I’ll figure it out when the time comes.”
Shannon found his answer less than satisfactory, not that it mattered what Nate was looking for in a woman. Didn’t matter a bit. All she was worried about was this meeting with her parents.
“What you’re looking for doesn’t matter tonight. What does matter is that you’re looking to be as shocking as possible. I want my mom to send that dress back to Kate. I want her to not weigh every man she meets as potential husband material for me. I want her to cancel the church and stop hounding local priests.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said with a grin.
They walked up the steps and onto the porch. The boards creaked as they walked across it to the door.
Shannon knocked, rather than just unlock it with her key and walk in. She was staging a grand entrance, after all. It wouldn’t work unless someone was there to witness it.
“By the way, Roxy,” Nate said with a devilish grin, “I have a new name, too, don’t forget. Bull.”
Shannon snorted. “Yes, that’s good. Very biker-ish. I’ll remember to use it.”
“I thought you’d like it. I—”
Nate was interrupted as the door flew open.
Shannon’s mom stood there, a smile on her face … a smile that slowly faded when she saw Nate.
“Shannon?” she asked, still staring at Nate as if she couldn’t look past the biker on her steps to see if her daughter was indeed present. She didn’t even notice the motorcycle on her front lawn, she was so horrified by Shannon’s date.
“Hi, Mom,” Shannon said brightly, pleased with her mom’s reaction. “This is my friend, Nate, Nate Calder.”
“But call me Bull,” he said. “That’s what my friends all call me. I think it fits my personality better than Nate ever did.”
“Bull?” Brigit asked weakly.
“Yeah.”
Shannon saw the moment her mother spotted the motorcycle. If anything she looked even more horrified.
“And is that your … vehicle?” her mom asked, her voice even fainter.
“My bike? Yeah. Isn’t she a beaut? A bike is like a woman, they each have their own personality, their own style. It takes just the right man to ride them. My bike, like Shannon, is a lady. A classy ride. I can’t figure out why either of them like me, but I’m glad they do.”
He loped an arm over Shannon’s shoulder and pulled her toward him.
She’d been right when she’d figured that she’d fit easily within the confines of his embrace.
“Oh, Bull,” she murmured as she batted her eye lashes in what she hoped was a love-sick manner. “You do say the sweetest things.”
“They’re not always sweet,” he said with a suggestive lilt to his voice.
“No,” she said with a grin that suggested a private joke. As if she suddenly realized her mother was there, she added, “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. It’s just that Bull makes me forget myself.”
“Oh,” was her mother’s flat response.
“Are you going to invite us in?” Shannon pressed.
“Certainly. Certainly. Come in.” Brigit didn’t add make yourself at home.
As a matter of fact, she wore an expression that said she wanted to go lock up all the valuables before Nate came in the house.
Somehow Shannon kept a straight face. Nate did as well. He was doing fantastic. She’d have to do as well next week when they went to his parents and redeem herself for yesterday’s little like-me-fest. She had a week to learn to be difficult and as unlikeable as possible.
“Your dad’s out back grilling some steaks,” her mother said, as she led them through the living room and into the dining room. “You do like steak, Mr.—”
“Bull. Just call me Bull, Ma’am. And of course I like steak. A real manly meal, that is. I was afraid we’d be eating some highbrow sort of meal, like couscous or sushi. Give me a big steak any day of the week. Rare, if that’s okay.”
“Rare. I’ll tell Sean,” Brigit said as she hurried out. “Shannon make your friend at home.”
The minute her mother was out of the room Shannon started laughing.
“Bull. Just call me Bull, Ma’am,” she mimicked. “You’re good, Nate. Very good.”
“I thought she was going to pass out,” he said.
“Me, too. She went to get my father for reinforcement. That’s unusual. Normally Mom likes to run the show unimpeded. You must have her flustered if she’s going for help.”
Shannon got Nate settled at
the dining room table and brought him a beer.
“I don’t like beer,” he said.
“Drink it. It’s part of the persona,” she whispered, just before her mother came back into the room, her father in tow.
“Bull,” her mother said, barely hesitating on the name, “this is my husband, Sean. Honey, this is Bull, your daughter’s date.”
Oh, Shannon had truly upset her mother if she was being designated as your daughter. The only time that happened was when she or Mary Kathryn was really in the doghouse.
Shannon watched as her father set the steak down and her mother fussed with drinks. They kept shooting each other looks. It was that strange couple-speak that some couples—couples who were truly connected and meant for each other—had. Those kind of looks carried more meaning than words.
Shannon knew that she’d never marry for less than what her parents had. She wanted someone who could read her looks, who understood her. Who would support her.
She wanted someone who would love her.
Why couldn’t her mother understand that?
Her parents had set the relationship bar extremely high. But Kate—the perfect daughter, the daughter who even when she rebelled managed to still retain her perfect status—had emulated her parents’ relationship when she’d married Tony Donetti.
Oh, maybe they didn’t seemingly have as much in common as her parents did—at least not on the surface—but it didn’t take much to see that they fit together perfectly.
They’d given each other looks like her parents shared when they came home for Seth and Desi’s wedding. Shannon had noted those looks and envied each one.
No matter how hard her mother tried to marry her off to an acceptable man, she was going to hold out for an exceptional one.
The dinner was quiet for a while, then obviously Brigit couldn’t stand it any more because she said, “So, Bull, what do you do for a living?”
“Oh, a little of this and a little of that,” he said in a noncommittal way around the bite of steak in his mouth.
“Which means?” Brigit pressed.
“I only work when I have to. And I’ve done a bit of everything. A bouncer. Mechanic. A few jobs I don’t think I’d better bring up.” He chuckled as if he’d said something funny, but Shannon’s parents didn’t even crack a smile.
“So …” her father finally said when the silence at the table grew too weighty, “How did you two meet?”
Shannon looked to Nate giving him the floor.
He obviously caught her meaning, because he said, “We were introduced by a mutual friend at the bar, then we went to an art show and that’s when I knew Shannon here was the woman for me.”
Shannon figured her parents would totally freak out at the bar comment, but instead her mother zeroed in on the second part of his statement. “An art show?”
Shannon was glad her mother asked, because she’d love to know just what Nate had in mind with that little tidbit.
“Yeah. There was a local show of Biker Art.”
“Biker Art?” her father echoed.
“Yeah. All the tattoos this local artist has done over the years … he’d taken them all, and copied them onto canvas collages.”
“Tattoos?” her mother said weakly.
“Yeah. I have a lot of them, though this mermaid,” he flexed his arm, causing the mermaid to wiggle suggestively, “is the only one that shows unless I take off my shirt,” he paused half-a-beat and then added, “or pants.”
“Oh, no,” her mom said in a rush, “that’s fine. The mermaid is beautiful.”
“Yeah, I think so. As a matter of fact, Shannon here is thinking about getting a tattoo with me. Matching hearts with each other’s name in ’em. Maybe we’ll do that as an engagement thing. What do you think, Babe?”
“Engagement?”
Her mom just kept repeating what Nate said, as if she was too shocked to think of anything original to say.
“Yeah,” Nate said as he reached over and patted Shannon’s hand on the table. “Shannon here, she told me about how you need her to get married in order to win a bet, and of course, I’m willing. I mean, if anyone understands how important winning a bet is, it’s me. I’ve probably won, and then lost, a million dollars over the years. I’d like to see to it that you win because, let’s face it, that’s a lot more fun than losing. After all, you’ll be my mother-in-law soon, so your honor is tied to my honor and I wantta see you win.”
“But married? Why you only just met,” Brigit protested.
“Shannon said you had everything reserved for the end of June. That leaves us plenty of time to get to know each other.”
“But … but …” her mother stuttered.
Shannon stared, mouth slightly agape. Her mother was stuttering. That never happened. Her mother was always in control, always had a plan, always had some contingency, always got the last word.
Nate had totally silenced her mother.
He was her hero.
She reached under the table and gave his knee a squeeze of thanks.
“Shannon,” her mother said with a tsking noise. “Are you two teasing? Married? Already? Oh, you two. I want Shannon to marry for compatibility, stability—”
“Love?” Shannon added.
“Of course, love. I would never want you to marry so I could win a bet.”
Shannon managed not to scoff.
Bull smiled. “Well, Shannon and I were sort of set on the idea of a June wedding, but we could put the final decision off for a while, if that would make you feel better. Just don’t go canceling anything ‘cause I can’t see me changin’ my mind.”
“Definitely put off a final decision for a while,” her mother echoed. “It wouldn’t do to rush into things.”
“But Cara’s in Texas and Mrs. Romano—” Shannon started.
“Shannon, the ideas you get. I was just kidding about the bet.”
“But Kate’s dress?” Shannon asked.
“You’ll have it when you need it, but I don’t want you to rush into anything.”
“But—”
“So, Bull, why don’t you tell me more about …” her mother hesitated as if searching for a subject she thought was safe. “Your motorcycle.”
“Well …” he said, and launched into a long monologue of the joys of Harley Davidson motorcycles. As he talked he gave Shannon’s hand another squeeze.
She just sat back and watched her mother’s wedding dreams evaporate.
It was a good night.
Chapter Five
“Good night,” Nate, aka Bull, said when they arrived at Shannon’s house a few hours later.
Shannon was riding a high because they’d defeated her mother.
She’d won.
She swore she watched her mother’s wedding-dreams fade into nothingness as the night progressed.
“You could come in for a while, if you like,” she said.
Nate looked surprised to hear the invitation, which is exactly how Shannon felt when she heard herself issue it.
She wasn’t sure why, but she was sure she wasn’t ready for the night to end.
“I don’t have work tomorrow,” he said, slowly, almost hesitantly.
What was with him?
Nate had been quiet since they left her parent’s house. Not that it was easy to talk on a motorcycle, but still, he seemed … well, distant.
“Never mind,” she said. “Forget I asked.”
She was just asking him in to celebrate their victory over her mother’s defeat and you’d have thought she was asking him to get his teeth drilled.
“No, I mean, yes, I’d like to come in.”
He might have said the words, but they didn’t sound overly sincere.
Did she have cooties or something? She’d been sweating bullets at the beginning of the evening, but she didn’t think she smelled.
“Really, never mind. It was just an idea,” she said as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.
She would have s
hut the door in his face, but he caught it before it shut and pushed it back open. “Shannon, I’d really like to come in.”
She shrugged and started walking into the foyer, leaving the door open for him to follow if he wanted.
She didn’t turn around, but heard the door shut, and then his footsteps against the hardwood floor as he followed her into the house.
“Make yourself at home,” she said, gesturing toward the couch.
This room was the reason she’d bought the house. Big, with dark, original woodwork, a huge stone fireplace and hardwood floors. She loved nothing better than to curl up on her couch and just enjoy the comfort of the room.
But tonight, with Nathan standing in it, the room didn’t feel big, or comfortable.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked after he’d taken a seat.
“I’m okay. Those couple beers were plenty.”
She wished he had wanted something so she would have an excuse to leave the room and collect herself. For some reason, she was feeling a bit breathless and she wasn’t sure why.
She sat opposite of him on the couch, leaving as much space as possible separating them.
Silence weighed heavily on the room.
Shannon tried to think of something to break it and finally said, “Um, I don’t suppose you’re hungry?”
“Nah. Your mom’s a much better cook than my mom is, only don’t tell my mom I said that. I’m quashing her grandbaby plans, I don’t want to take everything away from her.”
“Okay.”
Silence again ruled the room for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, Shannon said, “This is silly. Just go home. It’s okay.”
“No it’s not okay,” he said, turning to face her. “What’s going on? Even that first night, we didn’t have any trouble talking to each other. I felt an immediate connection. As if we’d been friends for years. So why all the awkward silences now?”
“Maybe it’s because before, we had a plan. We were working toward a common goal. That first night we were plotting out strategy, last night we were carrying out act one, and tonight act two. It’s over now. We don’t have anything else to talk about, at least until I come to dinner at your parent’s again next week. It’s not as if we’re friends, or as if we’re really dating.”
How to Hunt a Husband Page 5