Page 8 of Last First Date
Aunt Opal eyes Thom Abernathy like he’s a pool of fresh water in the dry, dusty desert. And I get it. I really do. He’s a grown man whose fancy suits were apparently hiding all of his best muscles during his years as a hot shot attorney. And now everything good about his body is on display as he leans ever so slightly closer to her.
She flushes. “Well, well. Handsome young firefighter, it seems I’m having a problem with my pussy.”
I choke out a cough. Surely, she didn’t actually say what I think she just said. I mean, it’s only Monday. It’s nine o’clock in the morning on a Monday. I shouldn’t have to hear the word “pussy” said out loud until Tuesday after dark at the earliest.
Abernathy’s eyes flick over to me for a split second telegraphing his obvious disapproval, but then his gaze returns to rest on the elderly woman before us. “Tell me what the problem is with your pussy, Aunt Opal.”
That’s it. I can’t hold it in any longer, and I snort-laugh. Both of them look over at me, clearly irritated by my eruption of profoundly unprofessional cackling. But when they’re both giving me such serious looks, it only makes this whole situation that much funnier to me, until I’m bent over and wheezing.
Opal Marie Hopf fluffs her head full of brassy curls and bats her eyelashes at Abernathy. “At least one of you is taking your job seriously.” She reaches over and squeezes his delicious looking biceps. “Now why don’t you come inside and we can talk some more, you dear handsome man.”
Thomas shakes his head disapprovingly at me and reaches over to tuck Aunt Opal’s hand into his elbow. He escorts her through the front door like they’re heading to a cotillion instead of inside to talk more about her pussy problem.
Even just thinking the word makes another snort giggle percolate up. But I have to get a grip. I can’t get a reputation at the station for being unable to take the job seriously enough.
As it stands, I’ve already been teased mercilessly at the township station about how I ended up adopting that half-feral cat from my first month as a rookie.
What can I say? Honey Boo Boo was all alone after the fire that took his owner’s life, and I wasn’t about to take that poor little baby to the animal shelter. He’s lived with me ever since, and sometimes he even goes an entire twenty-four hours without biting me.
At any rate, it took me ages to overcome the reputation I’d gotten for being “that damned crybaby” and “the crazy cat lady” and the guys finally figured out I was good at my fucking job.
I know I have to prove myself all over again now that I’m at the main station, but I’m not going to let it go sideways like it did when I was at township, cat or no.
My first day on the job as a lieutenant and I can’t get a reputation for not taking the people of Valentine seriously. Even if the person in question is the town’s resident dirty old lady who is apparently hitting up Abernathy to go hunt all over this big old house until he finds her pussy.
Oh my God. Well, he is sort of the pussy Pied Piper of Valentine, right? Maybe it works on actual feline animals too.
I take a deep breath and head inside, closing the door gently behind me. Abernathy is leaning quite close to Aunt Opal and is murmuring something in his soothing, rich voice. I move a little closer to try to catch the rest of the conversation.
“You want me to check the bedrooms first? Then maybe above the cabinets and taller furniture?” He pats her hand soothingly. “I’m here and ready to help, ma’am.”
She beams at him like he’s said exactly the right thing. “I’ll just come with you and keep an eye on you.” She turns to me briefly and nods her head, then taps the side of her nose with one finger. “You’d better come too. Two sets of eyes are better than one.”
I cannot believe I’m spending the first morning of my new job on a freaking cat call, but it can’t be helped. At least while we’re heading upstairs, I get a great view of Abernathy’s perfectly rounded butt in his sexy uniform pants.
No,down girl. I’m supposed to be making heart eyes at the richy-rich photographer that my mother has personally hand-selected for me. Not the hot-as-hell womanizing lawyer who’s currently doing hard time as a probie in my firehouse. Nope, nope, nope.
But my fascination with his incredible backside must be super obvious, because halfway up the staircase Aunt Opal looks back at me and winks. At least Abernathy didn’t seem to notice that particular bit of drama.
We head into the first bedroom, and Thom drops to his hands and knees and starts peeking around underneath the bed. Aunt Opal and I stand back just far enough to give his perfect rear end the ogling it deserves.
“I don’t see anything under here, ma’am,” his voice echoes up from the floor. He turns and looks at us for a moment. “Should I keep looking?”
“Oh yes, please,” says Aunt Opal, her elbow digging into my ribs. “Maybe try calling for the kitty this time and see what happens.”
I manage to stifle the snort that wants to come out, but the urge to giggle is almost choking me at this point. I don’t know why Abernathy hasn’t figured out that Aunt Opal called him over here just to stare at his butt, but I’m certainly not going to be the one to tell him.
Abernathy is back down on all fours on the ground now, making a little kissing sound this time. Aunt Opal nudges me again. “Try a little to the left.”
He wriggles over to one side, his rear end waggling. “No, no. I meant the right.” He pauses, then gamely heads the other direction, sexy ass dancing in his breathtakingly tight uniform pants.
After a few more minutes, he turns back toward us. “I don’t see anything under here ma’am.”
Aunt Opal pats him right on the butt. “Me either, dear. Maybe in the next room then.”
But three bedrooms and two extra high cabinet top searches later, we still haven’t seen Aunt Opal’s pussy.
We’re milling about in the kitchen and Aunt Opal is trying her best to persuade Thom to go outside and bend down to check a few of her bushes, but the front door bangs open and cuts off the sales pitch.
