BPOV

I hate my job. I hate my job. I hate my job.

I hated working at Wal-Mart. I took the price sticker gun and stuck one on my forehead. I, Bella Swan, hate my job.

"Excuse me ma'am?" said a sexy Southern voice from behind me.

"Yes?" I said and turned around

Fuck. 6 feet plus of pure southern charm. His blond locks hung on his face and his green eyes looked at me with amusement.

"Do you mind directin' me to the light bulb aisle?" he asked.

"Yeah sure, follow along," I said and started walking towards the light bulbs, a couple aisles down.

"Here you go sir," I said, gesturing to the light bulbs.

"Thanks Miss?" he started.

"Bella," I stammered.

"Thank you darlin'," he said as he took a step towards me, looking in my eyes.

My breath sped up. Holy shit, this hot piece of southern ass is going to kiss me!

"Miss Bella, you have a $2.95 sticker on you're forehead," he whispered and took off the sticker I had so conveniently stuck on my forehead.

Fan-fucking-tastic.