I Met a Girl (A Funerals and Obituaries Prequel)

I Met a Girl (Funerals and Obituaries Prequel)

Trent

I literally don't have time for this shit. My caseload is off the charts having just transferred to San Diego, California from Newark, New Jersey, but I really do need to be near my Nana.

When my mom called me to tell me Nana fell and broke her hip my heart stopped beating. And when it started pumping again, I applied for a lateral transfer to the San Diego Police Department so that I could keep an eye on her. In our family, Nana is everything. Especially since we lost Pops three years ago.

So when my transfer came through, my Lieutenant was sad to see me go, but he said he understood and gave me a glowing review on the way out. Pretty sweet, right? But now I am the proud owner of a ranch style home that need some updating in the hills over Escondido, California.

Well...need isn't exactly the right word. But I need to stop looking at the ugly ass avocado green appliances from the 1970's, the torn linoleum, same era, and the horrible plastic counter tops in the kitchen. Well, it applies to every room in the house but I'm gutting the kitchen first.

So, here I am walking my happy ass into the local Home Depot after having an early dinner with Nana. The girl at the Special Services desk gives me her sweetest smile and I see her look me up and down, a familiar knowing sparkle in her eyes. The Army taught me to assess every situation in the blink of an eye and that blink tells me that this girl is ready, willing, and able.

"Can I help you find something, Honey?" she purrs.

And honestly, it has been a while, I could totally got for some no strings fun. A hit it and quit it, for sure, and as much as it makes me sound like a dick, I could have this girl with a snap of my fingertips. But my house needs a ton of work and I will probably be in and out of this store for the next year, so you know, I'm not going to fuck it up by banging the girl that works at the front desk and then have to awkwardly see here every time I have to come in here to buy a door knob or order some wood flooring. Speaking of wood, I am not hard at all over this girl. Not even a dick twitch. And that's a good thing because I'm not going to shit where I eat.

"I just need you to tell me where I can find custom kitchens," I smile politely making sure to keep any sign of an invitation off of my face. She immediately deflates and I wince.

"You'll find it behind the paint section, in between the flooring and window covering section and the appliance department," she tells me politely.

I give her my thanks and head that way. I round the corner when I am stopped by the most perfect ass known to man. This, right here, is why I proudly served my country in the Army as a Ranger. This is the true meaning of an onion ass, so sweet it makes you cry, bent over in front of me is the woman it belongs to on her hands and knees, organizing a lower cabinet full of granite samples. Speaking of granite, my dick twitches in my shorts.

There's the hard on I didn't feel at the sight of someone offering themselves up to me on a platter, and it's all for the lower half of a woman I have never seen before. In fact, I still don't see her because the upper half of her body is buried inside the cabinet. Not that it matters because the view of this ass has me so hard I could drive nails, sans hammer. I know, buddy, it's been awhile, but hang on.

I clear my throat over the crappy music that's playing in the store, silently willing her to be pretty. Please don't be a butter face. Please don't be a butter face. Please don't be a butter face. And single. Single is important. Oh, and not jailbait. That would totally be frowned upon. By life. My dick loses a little bit of his starch at that one.

She turns around to look over her shoulder at me and smiles. At. Me. Her long, red ponytail swinging softly behind her.

"Can I help you with something?" She asks politely.

This angel of the home improvement store gracefully stands like a ballet dancer and slowly makes her way to me. I swear to fucking Christ, I hear Dreamweaver playing over the store's loud speakers. Her lips move but I can't hear her because in my mind I see her tight little body, naked on a wrecking ball, a la Miley Cyrus because she works in home depot. Yeah, that's why. One hundred percent.

And I'm hard. Shit. I hope she doesn't notice.

And then she slaps my face. Fuck, that stung. What did I do to deserve this? I didn't even say anything. Do you think she could tell I was picturing her naked by my face? Did I accidentally voice my erotic thoughts out loud? That would definitely be awkward. Or maybe the major boner I'm sporting in my pants. Jesus, I haven't pitched a tent like this since I was seventeen.

"I asked if you're alright, Sir," she shouts in my face. "I was about to go and get the Automatic Electronic Defibrillator in case you were dying. I trained on it yesterday so I am eighty eight percent sure I could use it right. It was easier to operate than the forklift so that's good. Jose's leg is almost healed, even," she mumbles the last bit to herself. Honestly, the idea of her with an AED scares the shit out of me. It's enough to wilt my boner a bit.

"I'm ok," I reassure her. "I was just lost in my thoughts. I'm sorry."

"Oh, good. I was worried. You looked for sure like you were having a heart attack," she reassures me with a smile on her face. "So what can we help you with tonight?" She asks breezily.

"My kitchen," I answer, my voice gruff. "I brought some pictures and some measurements. I'd love to get an idea of what we can do."

"Well, you've come to the right place. I'm Shelby," she says with a twinkle in the deepest hazel eyes I have ever seen. Shit! I am never going to get her to go out with me. I'm just going to have to ease her into the idea while we design my home renovations.

"That sounds great, Shelby. I'm Trent."

Rangers Lead the Way!