This is my standard disclaimer. I own nothing not the songs not the original work and not the TV show. Enjoy this entry for the letter I which is totes out of pocket for me… more chit lit than anything.

Chapter One

Mercedes

There are certain people in your life who just…get under your skin. They don't do anything wrong, they're perfectly normal in every way, yet when you see that person's face, you sort of want to…

Punch it.

That's Sam Evans for me.

Listen, he's a fine human being. And I mean that both in the, "Yes, he's perfectly fine" way and the, "Girl, that man is fine," way too. Maybe that's what bothers me. The fact that he's so ridiculously good looking. I'm pretty sure he knows it too.

Ugh.

There are also people in your life who don't even have to announce their presence, yet you know they're in the same room as you. Breathing the same air. It's like some weird sixth-sense thing.

It's happening right now, at this very moment, while I'm at work during a particularly busy shift. Tourist season is kicking into gear—who am I kidding, it's always tourist season around here—and the Sweet Dreams Café and Bakery is one of the most popular places for tourists and locals to congregate.

I'm the head chef at Sweet Dreams. I make the best desserts you'll ever eat in all of Carmel-by-the-Sea, if I do say so myself. I'm not bragging either. I also sing and have a reputation as the singing chef who sings opera, gospel, country, R&B, pop, folk, showtunes, and every other genre that is requested and is in my repertoire. It is what makes our cafe and bakery so popular. Most of the songs I sing have dreams in the title, so I make sure that I am ready to perform those while baking some of the best sweets ever. If you don't believe me go read my Yelp reviews.

Anyway, I'm minding my own business and taking a coffee break when the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Goosebumps break out all over my body and I go completely still.

Someone's watching me.

And I'm pretty sure I know exactly who it is.

Glancing up, I don't spot him at first, and honestly, I don't expect to. Maybe my radar is wrong. The café is crowded with people. Every single table is occupied, and the low murmur of many different voices talking fills my ears. I frown, my gaze darting from one side of the room to the other and then…

Oh Lord. There he is. Sam in the flesh. Smirking at me.

Staci warned me her big brother was returning to the area—that he actually wanted to move back home. And I should clarify that she didn't actually warn me. More like she mentioned that particular fact during casual conversation last week. It shouldn't feel like a big deal that he's back, you know? Who cares?

I care. It's a total big want to know why? No one else is privy to this information. It's my—and well Sam's—little secret. I've never told a soul, not to any of my friends. Certainly not my family, because my father and older brothers would probably kill him.

My big family is very religious and overprotective.

I've never told Staci either. I didn't want to get her hopes up. Or I didn't want them to come crashing down either. Maybe she would be disappointed in us? I don't know. Besides, it's just awkward, you know?

About a year ago or so, Sam came into town for the weekend. Looking mighty, mighty fine, but what else is new? A big group of us went to Tuscany, the restaurant my family owns that I supply desserts to as their off site pastry chef and my brothers run, for dinner.

The wine was flowing. The food was delicious. The mysterious looks Sam sent me across the table for the majority of the night were smoldering.

I smoldered right back.

No one paid attention to us. Specifically my brothers, who were too busy working. And specifically Staci—again, I would like to mention that she's Sam's sister—who was sending smoldering looks to her boyfriend/fiancé/whatever you want to call him, Joe.

Eventually, I made my way to the bathroom. I was stumbling a little, but relatively composed. I go alone—shocker, women rarely like to go to the bathroom alone—but I got that sense. You know the one I'm talking about. I had a feeling someone might follow me there.

I really didn't have to pee, thank God. Within seconds of me walking into the bathroom, Sam slipped inside the room with me and locked the door before leaning against it, sending me more of those smoldering looks without saying a word.

Again, I smoldered right back. It was sort of hot, that we really weren't speaking. We were communicating purely through our eyes, our body language. He wanted me.

I knew it.

And I wanted him too.

He proceeded to lift me onto the edge of the sink (don't worry, it was clean, my brothers run a super tight ship), and kissed me until I was breathless.

A few other things happened in that bathroom, but I'm not one to kiss and tell. After dinner was finished and we all went our separate ways, Sam followed me back to my apartment that I share with his sister. Staci went to Joe's, so I knew we were in the clear.

Yes. I had sex with Sam Evans all night long. Multiple times. This means multiple orgasms happened too, and guys.

It was amazing.

Then that asshole snuck out while I was sleeping and I haven't seen him since! No text, no note on the pillow or lipstick on the mirror saying had a great time, TTYL.

Now, I'm staring that jerkwad square in the eye at this very moment, and rage fills me. Worse, lust also fills me, and I hate that I'm still so attracted to him.

And by the way he's looking at me, I'm thinking the feeling is . I'm in trouble. Cue Taylor Swift's "Trouble" that I begin to hum to remind me of this fact. I sing the lyrics in my head while I watch him getting closer and closer to me.

Once upon a time A few mistakes ago I was in your sights You got me alone You found me You found me You found me I guess you didn't care And I guess I liked that And when I fell hard You took a step back Without me Without me Without me And he's long gone When he's next to me And I realize The blame is on me 'Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in So shame on me now Flew me to places I'd never been 'Til you put me down, oh I knew you were trouble when you walked in So, shame on me now Flew me to places I'd never been Now I'm lyin' on the cold hard ground Oh, oh Trouble, trouble, trouble Oh, oh Trouble, trouble, trouble No apologies He'll never see you cry Pretend he doesn't know That he's the reason why You're drowning You;re drowning You're drowning. And I heard you moved on From whispers on the street A new notch in your belt Is all I'll ever be And now I see Now I see Now I see He was long gone When he met me And I realize The joke is on me, hey I knew you were trouble when you walked in, oh-ooh So shame on me now.

Oh hell to the no, I am not even allowed to finish the song in my head when I see his sister, my best friend coming towards me.

"Mercedes! Oh my God, I'm so glad you're working this afternoon!" Staci's face pops up right in front of me and I blink at her in surprise, momentarily frozen. I was so entranced with her stupidly hot brother that I didn't even see her slip inside the building.

"Staci. Hey." I smile, going for casual. Hoping it works. I'm shaking. My entire body is trembling just from looking at Sam, and that is scary stuff. I hate that I have such a visceral reaction to him every single time we're in the same room together. "What are you doing here this afternoon?"

"Meeting with Sam!" She waves a hand toward her brother, her smile never faltering, though mine does. I can feel it. I might even be scowling. "He's back! I'm so excited! Isn't that great?"

She is speaking in exclamation points, which is something Staci does when she's super happy. She's been super happy for quite a while now, and I know it's mostly thanks to her fiancé, Joe. They're getting married later this summer—meaning the wedding is happening soon. Isn't it wonderful? I'm so happy for them. I'm the maid of honor, of course. I've already tried on my dress, and thank God it's not one of those typical hideous bridesmaid dresses. Staci has excellent taste.

Worry seizes me, and I frown. What if Sam is the best man? Oh hell no. I will not walk down the aisle on his arm. No way. Nooooo wayyyyy…

"I hate to ask you this, since it's so busy in here right now but…can you make us a couple of drinks real quick? So we don't have to stand in line?" Staci wrinkles her nose. Tilts her head. Puts on the sad puppy dog act. "Please?"

For her, I would do anything. For that asshole she's related to, I'd rather make him a nice big cup of sewer water.

But I can't. I have to play nice for my best friend, and that means treating Sam well.

"Sure." My smile is brilliant and I let my gaze drift so it meets Sam's, who's watching me very carefully. He's lurking a few feet behind her, as if he's afraid to get too close, and I'm thinking he's smarter than I first gave him credit. "What do you guys want?"

"Iced caramel macchiato for me, please. Nonfat milk, you know the drill. Sam?" Staci turns to speak to her brother. "Get over here. Mercedes wants to know your drink order."

He makes his way to the counter very slowly. Cautiously. Like I'm a wild animal who will snap his pretty head off with one bite. I wish I could. That would be immensely satisfying. "I'll have whatever you're having," he tells Staci, not bothering to look at me, the jerk.

His deep voice is just as delicious as I remember. And he's just as attractive as I remember too. I mean, no surprise, right? Of course his voice is still sexy. Of course he's still gorgeous.

I hate him.

"I didn't think you liked macchiatos." Staci frowns at Sam, and he frowns right back. "Too much milk, remember?" Want to know a fun fact? When we were younger, these two didn't get along. At all. It remained the same right into adulthood.

But somehow over the course of their relationship, Joe has convinced Staci that family is everything, and while I'm a big believer in that sentiment and come from a very close family myself, I feel like having Sam here will be an enormous pain in my ass and could possibly push Staci and me apart.

Yes, I'm that petty. So sue me.

"Are you lactose intolerant?" I ask Sam, my voice light and airy. Like I care.

He barely looks at me. Guess he can't face me when we're this close. Does he remember the last time we were this close? When his mouth came down on mine and his hand slipped between my legs…

"No. I happen to love macchiatos." Oh, he sounds like a complete snot. It's almost funny. "I just…prefer them hot. And definitely with nonfat milk. One less pump of caramel, too."

Sighing, I grab a paper cup and my black Sharpie. I know where this is going. I believe we've had this sort of conversation before, Sam and I. Pretty sure I've made him a drink or two at Sweet Dreams in this lifetime. Before everything as we know it changed. "Would you rather have a skinny vanilla latte?"

The relief on his face is almost comical. "Yes." He pauses for a moment, and I lift my gaze to find he's watching me with a hint of smolder. Ooh, hell that smoldering bit! I hate it! "Please."

"Coming right up!" I scribble a little special something on his cup and get to work, making Staci's drink first. The line at the counter is long, as usual, and it's midafternoon, so they're all looking for a quick coffee break to take them through the rest of their day. Some want sweets as well, and we have plenty of those to offer.

Staci didn't bother going to the register because she knows my father will turn her money away. Sam, on the other hand… I'd ask my father to charge him double the normal amount, and I bet he'd do it too. Especially if I never mentioned who Sam was.

But my father knows Sam. Vaguely. My brothers definitely know Sam, and they'll give him free wine and food too.

So annoying.

He doesn't deserve freebies. Or niceties. My brothers should string him up by his balls. My father should sock him right in the kidneys. I'd like to smack my palm across his obscenely handsome face. Maybe kiss it first. Kiss his lips, I should add. Just once. To see if he's still just as skilled as he was last time—

One of our baristas—Howard, who should be called a baristo, in my opinion—magically appears beside me and fills the orders ahead of the other customers waiting in line.

"You're my hero," I say sarcastically, but I mean it. Howard is sweet. He's fifty-five years old, with a thick graying beard and kind brown eyes. He started working at Sweet Dreams almost a year ago, and is an excellent barista.

He's also loaded—maybe more than my family—but he got bored once he retired after selling all of his very successful and varied businesses. His wife gave him an espresso machine for Christmas and he became so skilled with it, she started teasing him that he should work at a coffee place. That's how he came to us. His hobby has turned into a job. A job that pays very well, but I don't think Howard cares about the money. He's satisfied with making specialty coffees four hours a day, four days a week.

Whatever floats your boat, am I right?

"You are a life saver, Merce." She leans in and gives me a quick peck on the cheek after I had them their drinks, and my heart softens. I love my best friend. I really do. She's been there for me through thick and thin, and I've done the same for her.

But her brother is a complete asswipe, and if I could, I'd toss his skinny vanilla latte at his chest and pray the coffee would permanently stain his pristine white button-down shirt.

Just like the memory of our one night together is permanently stained on my brain.

Sam

"It's always so busy in here. I wonder if Mercedes's had a break yet," Staci says worriedly, shooting a contemplative look in her best friend's direction. I don't bother glancing over my shoulder. I know exactly what Mercedes looks like.

I even know what she looks like naked. Not that I'd say such a thing to my sister.

"I'm sure she has. Doesn't she practically run this place? I'm sure she's as busy as she wants to be." Sweet Dreams is always packed, as it is currently. I'm surprised Mercedes gave me a free drink, exactly what I wanted. I take a sip—it's so good too.

Everything about her is so good, if you ask me, but I'm thinking she's not too pleased with me right now. Might have something to do with how I snuck out of her bedroom in the early morning hours after our one—mind blowing and amazing—night together, and then never talked to her again. Until this very moment.

She probably hates me. I deserve her hatred too. Hence my reason for not wanting to approach her at first. I worried she might fling hot coffee in my face and scar me for life.

Staci frowns, checking the time on her phone. "She's usually finished singing and baking by now. I was hoping she could sit with us for a few minutes. I wanted to go over some wedding details."

I am already so over wedding details. "Maybe some other time," I say easily, like it's no big deal, having a conversation with Mercedes and my sister. Back in the day, it wouldn't have been. When we were younger, I merely tolerated Mercedes. She was annoying. I immediately deemed all of my sister's friends annoying. That attitude lasted right into our very early twenties.

But then something changed. Specifically with Mercedes. I noticed how beautiful she was. I liked her feisty personality. She isn't afraid to share her opinion. She stands up for what she wants. Her sexy and abundant curves used to make my hands itch, like they couldn't wait to touch her.

"Hopefully," Staci says, pursing her lips as she continues watching Mercedes.

"I should probably get going soon." Now I'm the one checking my phone for the time, though I'm lying. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. Absently I scratch the palm of my hand and I immediately stop. They itch because of Mercedes.

As in I want to touch her.

Bad idea. Really bad idea.

"Oh Sam. Can't you sit still for just a little while?" Staci returns her attention to me, sipping her drink. The giant rock on her ring finger catches the light and nearly blinds me.

Joe Hart went all out for that engagement ring, and I have to say, I'm glad to have him as my future brother-in-law. Considering we were best friends back in middle school, it's been great that we've reconnected. They've gone to visit me when I lived in Southern California. I came up to visit them here too, but always quick trips, never wanting to linger too long.

I left home for a reason. I wanted more. We didn't have much growing up, and I was surrounded by rich people my entire life. This town, this entire area always made me feel…less than. The minute I could leave, I did. Why would I want to come back? So I could look like a failure?

Guess I failed, because here I am. Fairly broke and in desperate need of a change. Since Joe and Staci got together, they kept trying to talk me into returning, and I kept brushing them off.

Until I got into a screaming match with the broker at the agency I was working at about a month ago. Didn't help that the broker was also my ex-girlfriend and she hated me. Never get into a relationship with a woman you work with, is what I learned after my messy breakup with Rachel.

The screaming match turned into me quitting in a moment of pure frustration and anger. Regret hit me the moment I said the words, but then I realized this:

I was burned out.

Tired.

Exhausted really.

Once I got home—after I had a few beers with friends, both celebrating and lamenting my new professional status—I calmly assessed my situation and realized I wasn't in the best position to quit my job. For the past five years, I've worked hard yet spent my money just as hard too. I was a complete workaholic who also knew how to party. I was generous to a fault, paying for my friends' and colleagues' dinners, bar tabs. You name it, I covered it.

My savings isn't as large as I'd like it to be, though I can survive for a while if I manage my money carefully. I'm not a fan of debt. I like to keep my credit card balances low to nonexistent. I should be all right, but I need to find a job.

More than anything, I want to take a nap.

"I need to find somewhere to live," I tell my sister. I want my own place. My sister's fiancé mentioned before I moved that I could live with him for a while, and I considered it. Staying with Joe at his huge house by the ocean would be nice and all, but I know Staci is always there. I'd feel like a third wheel. Rent in the area is astronomical. I could possibly buy a place, but the down payment would take up all of my savings, possibly more, and I'm not even sure if I want to remain here permanently.

"You could stay at Joe's," Staci points out, because she always makes that offer.

I shake my head. "I don't think so."

The look on her face tells me exactly what she's thinking. I'm stubborn. I'm being ridiculous. And maybe I am. But I don't want to live with Joe. I don't want to get locked into some year-long lease in some shitty apartment either. Currently I'm staying at the Hart Hotel in Pebble Beach for free, but I don't want to be Joe's charity case.

I do have some pride, after all.

"You don't want to stay at the hotel for a few months?" she asks.

I've already told her I don't want to. "If I could find a place with cheap month-to-month rent, that would be ideal. Though I know someplace like that doesn't actually exist in this area." I take a big sip of my coffee. The latte makes me think of Mercedes. Just being back here makes me think of her. Hell, she's only a few feet away from me, and every once in a while, the hairs on my arms feel like they're standing on end. Like I can feel her watching me.

Is she watching me?

Glancing over my shoulder, I spot her immediately. It's like she has a sensor and I can home in on her without even trying. She is watching me, and my heartrate starts increasing.

But then I realize she's glaring at me with fury filling her brown eyes, and I look away, trying to ignore my disappointment.

That look in her eyes is confirmation she really must hate me.

"…and so I'm thinking maybe you should move in with her. Temporarily. I know the idea sounds crazy, but I really believe it could work. What do you think?"

Staci's talking to me and I didn't hear most of what she just said.

"Repeat that again?" I ask wearily.

Staci rolls her eyes. "I've been hinting to Mercedes for a while that I plan on moving in with Joe, but I haven't told her straight out yet. Well, now I'm going to, because Joe wants me to move in next week, and you could take over my bedroom once I'm gone! Temporarily, of course, until you figure out what you want to do."

Did my sister just suggest I should move in with…Mercedes?

Hell no.

"She won't like that."

"Oh, come on! You two have always gotten along!"

That isn't true. "Not really."

"You're busy people. You'll barely see each other." Staci waves a dismissive hand.

"I'm currently not working, so if I moved in, I'm sure I'd see her all the time." No thanks. I feel bad enough, ditching her like I did after that one night. If I had to face her on a daily basis, knowing how much she hates me?

I couldn't take it.

"You'll find a job quickly, I know you. You don't like sitting around doing nothing." Staci frowns, her gaze drifting to the front of the bakery, most likely settling on Mercedes. "I don't want to leave her alone, but Joe is practically begging. We're getting married in a couple of months, so I may as well move in now…"

"You really think Mercedes would want me as her roommate?" Of course she wouldn't. And if Staci knew the reason why, she wouldn't want us to be roommates either.

"I don't think she'd mind…" Staci shrugs. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't want a roommate." I scowl at her, absently picking at the paper sleeve that wraps around my cup. I only just arrived in town not even two hours ago. Staying at Joe's family's hotel is great and all, but I don't plan on staying there for long.

Knowing me, I'd want to sleep in till noon, play a round of golf, and find myself in the bar, paying for a round of drinks for my new golf buddies.

I need to break all my old habits. Living at a hotel won't help me do that.

"I understand. But where are you going to find a place to live with cheap rent around here? And I hate the idea of leaving Mercedes alone. But Joe and I, we're just anxious to start our lives together. Really together," Staci stresses, and I wonder what that's like, to be so in love with someone, you can barely stand the thought of not seeing that person every single day.

I wouldn't have a clue. I've been in casual relationships. In my early twenties, you could've even called me a player. But have I ever been desperately in love?

That would be a firm no.

"I get it," I tell her, lying through my teeth. "And I'm sure Mercedes will get it too. But me moving in with her? I don't think she'll go for that."

"You're just being stubborn," Staci says irritably "Like I said, you're both so busy all the time, you two wouldn't have to deal with each other much."

"I won't be as busy here, Stace. I need to find a job first. Establish myself." She's forgetting that I have no job, and I'm not that busy. I could go work for a real estate agency. I could walk into any one of them in the area and they'd hire me in an instant.

But I'm not sure if I want to do that. What I'd really love to do is buy a home, fix it up and sell it. A project all my own, something just for me.

"You're such a go-getter, I'm sure you'll find a job immediately. Next thing you know, you'll be working your behind off, as usual, and you'll never be home," Staci says with extreme knowledge, because she knows me so well. "It would work out perfectly."

"I suppose," I say slowly, though I don't know if it'll happen as quickly as she says. I want to take my time, figure out a plan, reassess my entire life, if I'm being truthful.

Do I really want to do that while living with Mercedes? Knowing she's mad at me for what I did to her? She's a reminder of how I used to be. The player who had sex with women and then immediately forgot all about them. I don't want to do that anymore.

I want to change.

Staci's face brightens. "So you think it would be a good idea? Because I do. You could take over my room, pay rent, reevaluate what you want to do here now that you're back. We know you'll eventually find a job, find a place to live, and firmly establish yourself here. It's the perfect solution to your temporary situation."

"What will happen to Mercedes once I move out?" I'm speaking hypothetically, of course, because we know this is never going to happen.

Staci's eyes dim and she sighs. "I don't know. I suppose she could find another roommate eventually. Or she could live alone. She might want to, after you two live together for a while."

"Ha, very funny."

"Listen, the best part about living with Mercedes is the rent is super cheap. Only four hundred dollars a month, and that includes utilities," Staci tells me.

My eyes feel like they're going to pop out of my head. "That's it?" The leases for any business on Ocean Avenue in Carmel-by-the-Sea are way more than that. As in, four hundred dollars is probably their hourly rate.

Staci nods, her expression guilty. "I know, right? It's so cheap."

Living with Mercedes is sounding better by the minute. But I know it could never work. First, she would never allow it. Second, the temptation of having Mercedes living in the same place I do would be too much.

Way too much.

I can't risk it.

What happened between us that one night can never happen again, no matter how badly I might want it to. Lately, I think about that night a lot. Maybe it's because I can't have her, and we always want what we can't have, am I right?

But who the hell is saying that I can't have Mercedes? Me?

Yeah. It's me. I don't deserve her, especially after what I did.

"I should go." I grab my cup, drain the last of the coffee and slam it onto the tabletop, jostling the paper sleeve so that it falls off the cup, uncovering the writing that it hid.

Hope you don't poop your pants,it says, accompanied by a perfectly sweet smiley face.

Smiling, I stare at Mercedes's loopy, feminine handwriting. I should be offended, right? Maybe? But I'm not.

I'm kind of charmed.

Would it be so terrible, living with Mercedes? Nah. Though it would be a real test to my self-control. She's pure temptation. Even seeing her here now at Sweet Dreams, glaring at me every chance she can get, I'm drawn to her.

But it would be temporary. A short period in my life so I can get back on my feet, figure out what I want to do and make my next move.

"Meet us for dinner tonight," Staci says as we both rise to our feet, making our way to the front door. "We want to go to that one place with the terrace that overlooks the street."

"Close to the beach?" I've heard of it, but never been. And thank God my sister didn't suggest Tuscany. That restaurant is full of all sorts of memories, almost all of them starring Mercedes.

"Yes." She nods. "Seven o'clock. What do you say?"

"Sure," I shrug, then glance over my shoulder to find Mercedes watching us. I lift my hand in acknowledgement and she scratches her forehead, subtly giving me the finger.

Laughing, I make my way out of Sweet Dreams with my sister on my heels.

"What's so funny?" she asks.

My laughter dies, but my sudden good mood doesn't. "Nothing. I'll see you tonight."