Standard Disclaimer: None of this story or Virgin River or Glee situations and characters belong to me. I hope all is well for you all. My summer vacation is over next week, but with five chapters to go, I am sure I will have this work completed before I go back to the daily grind. Please forgive my mistakes and thanks as always for supporting this work.

Chapter 15

Merce wished she could just go inside, undress and go to bed alone, but she was wired and out of courage for the night. After a moment, when she could no longer hear the engine of his big SUV, she went down the stairs to the Hummer. She drove into town and parked behind the bar, next to Sam's truck. The sound of the engine and car door must have awakened him, because a light went on and the back door to his quarters opened. He stood in the frame, a dim light behind him, wearing a pair of hastily pulled on jeans. She walked right into his arms.

"What are you doing here?" he asked softly, pulling her inside and closing the door.

"I went out on a call. A baby. And I didn't want to go home. Didn't want to be alone after that. It was a close one, Sam."

He slipped his hands inside her Samet to hold her closer. "Did everything work out okay?"

"Yes," she said. "But there wasn't very much time. If I'd been five minutes longer getting there… The cord was around his neck." She shook her head. "But I did get there. And he's a beautiful baby."

"Where?" he asked, smoothing her hair over her ear.

"The other side of Clear River," she said, remembering what the man had said when he pulled up to the front of Doc's clinic. In truth, she had no idea where they'd gone. He could've driven around in circles for all she knew.

"You're trembling," he said, pressing his lips to her brow.

"Yeah, a little. Coming down from the experience." She tilted her head to look up at him. "Is it okay that I'm here?"

"Of course it is. Merce, what's wrong?"

"The mother was going to deliver herself, but the father got nervous and came for me." She shivered. "I thought I had some wild experiences in L.A.," she said with a weak laugh. "If you'd told me a year ago that I'd go out to some poor trailer in the woods, in the middle of the night to deliver a baby, I would have said, never gonna happen."

He rubbed a knuckle along her cheek. "Who was it?"

She shook her head. If she told him she didn't have the first idea, he'd flip. "They're not from around here, Sam. He dropped by Doc's a while ago, looking for someone who could handle a birth. I can't talk about patients unless they say it's okay, but these patients, I didn't even ask. They weren't married or anything. She lives in a crappy little trailer by herself. It's a pretty nightmarish situation for her." And she thought, I'm doing things out here in the mountains that I never, in a million years, thought I could do. Terrifying, impossible, dangerous things. Exhilarating things that no one else would do. And if no one had, there'd be a dead baby. Possibly a critically injured mother. She leaned her head against Sam's chest and took a deep, steadying breath.

"He called you?" Sam asked.

Damn. Bold-faced lies to straight questions were so hard for her. "He was waiting at the cabin. If I'd stayed the night here with you, I'd have missed him and that baby wouldn't have made it."

"Did you tell him where to find you after hours?"

She shook her head before she thought about her answer. "He must have asked someone," she said. "Everyone in Lima River knows where I live. And probably half the people in Clear River."

"God," he said, tightening his arms around her. "Did it ever occur to you that you could have been at risk?" he asked her.

"For a minute or two," she said. She looked up at him and smiled. "I don't expect you to understand this—but there was a baby coming. And I'm glad I went. Besides, I wasn't in trouble. The mother was."

He let out a slow, relieved breath. "Jesus. I'm going to have to keep a much closer eye on you." He kissed her brow. "Something happened tonight. Something you're not telling me. Whatever it was—never, never let that happen again."

"Could we get in bed, please? I really need you to just hold me."

And that was all he did, held and sang to her as she went to sleep in his arms and he followed soon after her.

Sam was sitting on the porch of the bar, tying off flies, when a familiar black Range Rover pulled slowly into town and parked right in front of Doc's. He sat forward on the porch chair and watched as the driver got out, went around to the passenger door and opened it. A woman carrying a small bundle got out of the car, walked up the porch steps to enter the clinic and Sam's heart began to pound.

When the woman entered Doc's, the man went back to his SUV and leaned against the hood, his back to Sam. He took out a small pen knife and began to idly clean under his nails. Because of the kind of guy this was, Sam knew he had seen him sitting there, on the porch. He would have observed everything worth seeing when he came into town; he'd know every escape route, any threat. Today, coming into town with a woman and new baby, Sam would bet there wouldn't be contraband of any kind in that vehicle and if he had weapons, they'd be registered. And…his license plate was splattered with mud so it couldn't be read. Lame trick. But Sam remembered it; he'd memorized it the first time this guy had come to town.

So, he hadn't come to Lima River for a couple of drinks a while back. He'd come to see if there was medical assistance here. Merce had said that the delivery that shook her up had occurred on the other side of Clear River and there was no doctor or clinic in that town. Grace Valley and Garberville were just a little farther away, but there were more people around.

It was a little over a half hour before the woman came out, Merce walking behind her. The woman turned and shook Merce's hand; Merce squeezed her upper arm. The man helped her into the car and drove slowly out of town.

Sam stood and Merce met his eyes across the street. They were on their respective porches and, even from the distance, she could see the deepening frown gather on his face. Then he walked over to her.

She slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans as he approached. When he was near, he put one foot up on the porch steps and leaned his forearms on his bent knee, looking up at her. The frown was not angry, but definitely unhappy. "Doc know what you did?" he asked her.

She gave a nod. "He knows I delivered a baby, if that's what you mean. It's what I do, Sam."

"You have to promise me, you're not going to do that again. Not for someone like him."

"Excuse me, who the hell do you think you are telling me what to do? Do you even know him?" she asked.

"I know I have no right to tell you what to do, but I do care about you and worry about you and don't want anything to happen to you or cause me to have to go to jail for you. I don't know him, but he's been in the bar and I know what he is. The problem isn't him bringing a woman to the doctor, and you know it. It's you going with him in the middle of the night. Alone. Just because he says—"

"I am old enough and smart enough to make my own decisions," she said. "I was asked. And he had been by the clinic before, looking for a doctor, so he wasn't a complete stranger."

"Listen to me," Sam said firmly. "People like that aren't trustworthy. Those kinds won't threaten you in your clinic or my bar. They like to keep a real low profile. They don't want their crops raided. But out there," he said, giving his chin a jerk toward the mountains to their east, "things can happen. He could've decided you were a threat to his business and—"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He wouldn't let anything happen to me. That would be a threat to his business—"

"Is that what he told you? Because I wouldn't take his word for that." He shook his head. "You can't do that, Mercedes. You can't go alone to some illegal grower's camp."

"I doubt there will be a situation like that again," she answered.

"Promise me that you won't," he said.

She shook her head, not willing to kowtow to him. "I have a job to do, Sam. If I hadn't gone—"

"Merce, do you understand what I'm telling you? I'm not going to lose you because you're willing to take ridiculous and dumb chances. Promise me."

She pursed her lips and merely lifted her chin defiantly. "Never…never suggest I'm dumb."

"I wouldn't do that. But you have to understand—"

"It was down to me. There was a baby coming, there really was, and I had to go because if I hadn't, it could've been disastrous. There wasn't time to think about it."

"Have you always been this stubborn?" he asked.

"Like you didn't know this about me already. There was a baby coming. And it doesn't matter to me who the woman is or what she does for a living."

"Would you have done something like that in L.A.?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

She thought for just a moment about how life had changed since leaving L.A. After being picked up by a gun-carrying illegal grower and delivering a baby back in the woods, shouldn't she be packing? Running for her life? Unwilling to ever be put in a position like that again? Instead, she was doing a mental inventory of what was in Doc's refrigerator, wondering if it wasn't about time to take a few things out to Menkins's camp. It had been a couple of weeks since she'd last done that.

Although she really didn't want a repeat of the scenario with the grower, something about the experience got her attention. When she'd left L.A., they didn't have any trouble filling her job. There were ten people who could do what she did, and do it just as well. In Lima River, and the surrounding area, it was her and Doc. There just wasn't anyone else. There was no day off or week off. And if she had hesitated even long enough to fetch Doc to go with her, that baby wouldn't have made it.

I came here because I thought life would be simpler, easier, quieter, she thought. That there would be fewer challenges, and certainly nothing to fear. I thought I'd feel safer, not that I'd have to grow stronger. Braver.

She smiled at him. "In L.A. we send the paramedics. Have you seen any paramedics here? I'm the EMT in this little town that you said was uncomplicated. You're a big liar, that's what you are…"

"I told you, we have our own kind of drama. Merce, you should listen to me—"

"This is a really complicated place sometimes. I'm just going to do my job the best I can to prevent baby and mother deaths."

He stepped up onto the porch, put a finger under her chin and lifted it, gazing into her eyes. "Mercedes, you're getting to be a real handful."

"Yeah like you aren't?" she asked, smiling. "If it's too hot, you can always decide to get the hell out of my kitchen."

Merce didn't tell Doc where she was going, just that there were a couple of people she wanted to look in on. He asked her, since she was out, to stop and check on Shannon Beiste, an elderly woman who lived alone and had high blood pressure. "Make sure she has plenty of medicine and that she's actually taking it," he said. He popped an antacid.

"Should you be having so much indigestion?" she asked him.

"Everyone my age has this much gas and heartburn," he answered, brushing her off.

Merce got Shannon's blood pressure out of the way first, though it wasn't quick. The thing about house calls in little towns like this was it involved tea and cookies and conversation. It was as much a social event as medical care. Then she drove out to the Anderson ranch. When she pulled up, CJ saw the Hummer. "Nice haven't seen one of these in years," he said. "When did that thing turn up all fitted out?"

"Just last week," she said. "Better for getting around the back roads than my shitty little foreign job, as Doc calls it."

"Mind if I have a look inside of it?" he asked, peering into the window.

"Help yourself. I'd like to check on Meagan. Is Pam inside?"

"Yup. In the kitchen. Go on in—door's open."

Merce went around back. Through the kitchen window she could see Pam's profile as she sat at the kitchen table. The door was open and only the screen door was closed. She gave a couple of quick raps, called out, "Hey, Pam," and opened the door. And was stopped dead in her tracks.

Pam, too late, pulled the baby blanket over her exposed breast. She was nursing Meagan.

Merce was frozen in place. "Pam?" she said, confused.

Tears sprang to the woman's eyes. "Merce," she said, her voice a mere whisper. The baby immediately started to whimper and Pam tried to comfort her, but Meagan wasn't done nursing. Pam's cheeks were instantly red and damp; the hands that fussed with her shirt and held the baby were shaking.

"How is this possible?" Merce asked, completely confused. Pam's youngest child was grown—she couldn't possibly have breast milk. But then she realized what had happened. "Oh, my God!" Meagan was Pam's baby! Merce walked slowly to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair to sit down because her knees were shaking. "Does everyone in the town know?"

Pam shook her head, her eyes pinched closed. "Just me and CJ," she finally said. "I wasn't in my right mind. My doctor says I had postpartum depression. I was suicidal and thought I would hurt her, myself, or even CJ. CJ sent me off to a mental wellness retreat, and I was diagnosed after he found out, I left the baby in town."

Merce shook her head, baffled. "Pam. What in the world happened?"

"I thought they'd come for her—the county. And that someone would want her right off. Some nice young couple who couldn't have a baby. Then she'd have young parents who would be able to love her and take care of her, not a crazy suicidal mess that I was.

Merce got out of her chair and went to her, taking the fussing baby, trying to comfort her. Pam lay her head down on the table top and wept hard tears.

"I'm so ashamed," she cried. When she looked up at Merce again she said, "I raised my kids. I spent over twenty years raising kids, and we got a granddaughter. I should have known I had something more than the baby blues. I was in a dark place and didn't know how to ask for help."

"Wasn't there anyone you could talk to about this?" Merce asked.

She shook her head. "Merce," she wept. "I was sick, depressed, and crazy. Country people… Small-town people would have talked about me all over town, and I wasn't thinking straight, I couldn't trust anybody with my secrets, not even my husband, I was so out of my mind," she said, shaking her head.

"Did you ever think about arranging an adoption instead of abandoning her?" Merce asked.

"No one in my family, in this town for that matter, would ever understand that. They'd have looked at me like I killed her. Even my friends—good women my age who would understand how I felt, could never accept it if I said I didn't want to raise my own child because I was afraid of hurting her or hurting myself. I didn't know what else to do."

"So, as soon as you got out of treatment, you wanted her back. And now what do you intend to do?" Merce asked.

She was shaking her head. "I don't know. Oh, God, I wish I had a chance to do it over."

"Pam—how did you conceal your pregnancy? How did you give birth alone?"

"No one pays much attention to a married woman's figure. I watched a video on Youtube, and I have given birth before even though it was in the hospital, I knew how to push and CJ caught the baby. Maybe we can adopt her now?"

Merce sat down again, still jiggling the baby. She looked down at Meagan, who was burying her fist in her mouth, squirming and fussing. "You don't have to adopt her, you gave birth to her. But I'm terribly worried about you. You were so depressed that you abandoned her. That must have almost killed you."

"I watched the whole time. Until you and Sam came to the porch. I wouldn't have let anything happen to her. I loved her, but I was afraid for her. It was a bad decision, but I felt like I had to do it at the time. I just didn't know what else to do."

"Oh, Pam," Merce said. "I'm not sure you're okay yet. Are you breastfeeding and taking medicine for your condition." She passed the baby back to Pam who shook her head. "Here, nurse your baby. She's hungry."

"I don't know that I can," she said, but she took the baby. "I might be too upset."

"Just hook her up—she'll do the work," Merce said. When the baby was again at the breast, Merce put her arms around Pam and just held them both for a few minutes.

"What are you going to do?" Pam asked, her voice a quivering mess.

"God, Pam, I don't know. Do you understand that doctors and midwives protect your confidentiality? If I'd been here when you'd discovered your pregnancy, you could have trusted me with your secret. You could have trusted Doc, or Dr. Sterling in Grace Valley. The people in the family planning clinic keep confidential records—they would have helped. But." She took a breath. "We're also bound by laws."

"I just didn't know where to turn."

Merce shook her head sadly. "You must have been so scared of hurting her."

Pam shrugged. "I was, and I am better now about the postpartum, but the guilt of what I did will never leave me! You just don't understand."

"Oh, Pam, I know you were terrified and desperate. I can imagine. But I'm not going to kid you, this is complicated."

"But will you help us? Will you help Meagan?"

"I'll do what I can—but those laws…" She sighed. "I'll do whatever I can," she said gently. "We'll find a way to sort this out. Just let me think."

Not long after, when Merce was sure that Pam was calmed down and safe, Merce left her. She'd been with her about forty minutes, and CJ saw her and met her to say goodbye.

"CJ, go in the house and comfort your wife. I just walked in on her nursing your daughter."

"Oh, hell," he said.

It was on the ride back to town that Merce realized Doc Remington was onto this. In fact, he might've given birth to it, so to speak. He'd always said the mother would turn up, and she had. Weeks ago when Merce had told him that Pam had offered to take in the baby, his eyebrows had shot up in surprise. He hadn't expected it to be Pam. He had never called social services. And yet, he never brought her into the conspiracy.

By the time she got back to his house it was after four, and she was ready to blow. Doc was seeing a patient who was coughing and hacking like a dying man. She had to wait. And while she waited, she began to seethe. When the man finally left with a butt full of penicillin and a pocket full of pills, she faced him down. "Your office," she said flatly, preceding him in that direction.

"What's got you so hot under the collar looking like a skunk has crawled up your big fanny?" he asked.

"I went to the Andersons'. I walked in on Pam breastfeeding the baby."

"Ah," he said simply, limping around her to sit behind his desk, his arthritis obviously kicking up again.

She leaned her hands on the desk and got in his face. "You never called social services, did you?"

"Didn't see the need. Her mother came for her like I knew she would."

"What do you plan to do about the birth certificate?"

"Well, when we get this straightened out a little better, I'll sign and date it."

"Doc, you can't pull this shit off legally! That baby was abandoned! Even though her mother came back for her, it might still be considered a crime!"

"Settle down. Pam had postpartum depression. She has been treated. She is better and able to raise Meagan."

"At the very least, you could have told me!"

"And have you go off half-cocked like this? Snatch up that baby and turn her in?"

Merce fumed. "I can't work like this," she said. "I'm here to give good, sound medical care, not run around in circles trying to guess what you're hiding from me!"

"Who asked you to stay anyway?" he threw back.

She was stunned quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Hell to the NO!" And she turned to leave his office.

"We're not done here," he bellowed. "Where are you going?"

"For a drink you s.o.b.!" she yelled back.

When she got to Sam's it was impossible for her to hide the fact that she was all riled up, but she couldn't talk about it. She went straight to the bar without saying hello to anyone.

Sam took one look at her and said, "Whoa, there."

"A harder lemonade," she said. "Please," she added when she realized she was taking her temper out on Sam.

He served her up and said, "Wanna talk about it?"

"Sorry. Can't." She took a drink of the icy brew. "Business."

"Must be messy business. You're pissed and didn't want a wine cooler."

"Hell yeah it's the hottest mess of all."

"Anything I can do?"

"Just don't ask me about it, because I'm bound by confidentiality."

"I don't even want to know." He said knowing she wouldn't tell him anyway.

Sam slid an envelope across the bar to her. She looked at the return address—it was from the clinic in Eureka he had visited. "Maybe this will brighten your mood a little. I have a clean spotless bill of health."

She smiled a small smile. "That's good, Sam," she said. "I thought it would come out like that."

"You are still upset; I didn't divert you from your anger?" He leaned forward and put a light kiss on her brow. "You go ahead and sulk in your drink. Let me know if you need anything."

She began to calm down with her drink. It was probably a half hour later that Doc Remington came into the bar and sat on the stool beside her. She glared at him, then focused again on her glass.

Doc raised a finger to Sam and he set up a whiskey. Then wisely, left the two of them alone.

Doc had a sip, then another, then said, "You're right. I can't leave you out of the loop like that if you're going to help take care of the town."

She turned and looked at him, one eyebrow lifted. "Did you just apologize to me?"

"Not quite, I didn't. I am not sorry. But in this one instance, you're right. I'm just used to acting on my own, is all. Meant no disrespect."

"What are we going to do?" she asked him.

"You're not going to do anything at all. This is on me. If there's any malpractice involved, I don't want it on you. You were always prepared to do the right thing. I wanted to do the right thing, too—but I had a different right thing in mind."

"I think she should be examined to be sure there were no side effects and to be sure her postpartum depression is taken care of. By you or we can make her an appointment with Jeff Sterling."

"I'll call Jeff," Doc said, taking another sip of his whiskey. "I want you away from this for now."

"And this time, you'll actually make the call?"

He turned and regarded her, glare for glare. "I'll call him."

Merce just concentrated on her drink, which had gone warm and useless.

"You do a good job, Mercedes," he said. "I'm getting too old for some things, especially the babies." He looked down at his hands, some fingers bent, knuckles swollen. "I can still get things done, but these old hands aren't good on the women here. Better you take care of women's health."

She turned toward him. "First a partial apology. Then a partial compliment."

"I apologized, I just wasn't sorry," he said without looking at her. "I think you're needed here."

She let out her breath slowly. She knew how hard that was for him. She took another deep breath and put her arm around his shoulders. She leaned her head against him.

"Don't go getting soft on me you egotistical dinosaur," she said.

"Not a chance," he returned.

Sam had no idea what had passed between Merce and Doc, but she said they were going back to the clinic and would have a bite to eat together there. He assumed they had issues to work out. Then she promised to come back to the bar before going home.

He served quite a few people at six. By seven the crowd was thinning and there were only a few people there when the door opened. Holly. She'd never come to Lima River before; he'd let her know that he wanted to keep those two parts of his life separate. She wasn't wearing waitress clothes tonight, so her intention was pretty obvious. She wore a nice pair of creased slacks, a crisp white blouse with the collar folded on the outside of a dark blue blazer. Her hair was down and full, makeup thick but perfect, heels. It pleased him to be reminded that she was a beautiful woman, especially so when she didn't wear those tight clothes that drew attention to her Hollywood figure. She could be a movie star. She looked classy. Mature.

She sat up at the bar and smiled at him. "I thought I'd drop by and see how you've been," she said.

"Good, Holly. You?"

"Great."

"How about a drink?" he asked.

"Sure. Yes. How about a Johnny Walker, ice. Make it a good Johnny."

"You got it." He set her up with a black label—he didn't have any blue. Too pricey for his usual crowd. In fact, he didn't move much of the black label. "So, what brings you to my stick of the woods?"

"I wanted to check in with you boo. See if things are the same with you."

He looked down for a second, disappointed. He had hoped not to have to do this again, and certainly not here. This was no place to discuss their relationship, such as it had been. She promised that she had understood that their affair was to have no attachments. He looked back into her eyes and simply nodded.

"So, there's no change, then?"

He shook his head, hoping he could leave it at that.

"Well," she said, taking a sip of her drink. "I'm sorry to hear that. I was hoping that maybe we could screw just one more time for old time's sake… Never mind. I can tell by the disgusted look on your face—"

"Holly, please. This isn't the right time or place."

"Take it easy, Sam, I'm not going to jump your bones and rape you. Can't blame a girl for checking you out. After all, what we had was pretty special, and I am not just talking about those orgasms. To me, I thought we were special, and I was looking forward to forever being your girl."

"It was special to me, too. I'm sorry I misled you, but I had to move on."

"So—you are still going to insist there's no one else?"

"There wasn't at the time. I didn't lie to you. I've never lied to you. But now—"

Just as he said that, the door swung open and Merce came in. Her expression earlier had been angry, but now it was subdued. Tired. And she did something she had never previously done. Rather than jumping up on a stool and asking for a drink, she came around the bar. To Holly he said, "Excuse me just one second." He met Merce at the end of the bar.

Merce immediately put her arms around his waist and hugged him to her, laying her head on his chest. His arms went around her, as well, returning the gesture, painfully aware that Holly was burning a hole in his back with her eyes.

"Today was trifling," Merce said softly. "Doc and I had a come-to-Jesus meeting about how we're going to work together, if we're going to work together. It was harder than I thought. I am emotionally drained."

"Will you be alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Might I have one of those nifty little Crowns? I've eaten and I promise to only have one, with ice, and you're welcome to take me home tonight. If you want to."

"You're kidding, right? I'm scared to death to let you go home alone. Who knows what you'll do, who you'll take a ride with." He put a small kiss on her brow and turned her around so she could go to the front of the bar. He didn't make eye contact with Holly, but rather fixed the drink and put it before Merce. By now she was on a stool at the very end of the bar. "You'll have to give me a minute."

"Sure," she said. "Take your time. I just want to mellow out."

"Mellow away." He went back to Holly.

The expression in Holly's eyes was one of hurt, but at least there was clarity; she knew the score.

"I think I understand everything clearly now," she said, taking another sip of her drink.

He reached for her hand and held it. "Holly, I wasn't lying. Doesn't really matter now, I guess, but I'd like it if you believed I was telling the truth. There wasn't anyone else."

"But you wanted there to be."

He nodded, helplessly. He glanced at Merce. She was watching them. Her expression was perplexed and unhappy.

"Well. Now I understand," Holly said, pulling her hand away from his. "I'm going to take off. Leave you to your business and your life."

She plunked down a twenty-dollar bill, insulting a former lover who would buy her a drink. She whirled off the bar stool and headed for the door. Sam grabbed that twenty and went down to the end of the bar. "Merce, I'll be right back. Stay put."

"Take all the time you need," she said, but she didn't say it happily.

Just the same he followed Holly outside. He called to her and she stopped once she got to her car. He caught up with her and said, "I'm sorry it ended like this. I wish you'd just called first and it would have saved you the ride out here."

"I'm sure you do." She had moist eyes, as though any minute there might be tears. "I see now why you haven't even thought about me at all have you?," she asked.

"I'm not sure you do. This is… It happened very suddenly and unexpectedly," he said.

"But she was on your mind even when you came to see that last time?"

He took a breath. "Yeah."

"You love her," she said.

He nodded. "Oh, yeah. Big time."

She laughed hollowly. "Well, who'd guess you would fall. Mr. No-Commitment."

"I didn't mean to mislead you, Holly. That's why I broke it off, because I knew if Merce gave me half a chance, I'd choose her over you and that would have hurt you. I'd never deliberately…"

"Aw, take it easy, dude. She's younger than me, with some serious curves, and I bet smart as hell—and you're a goner. Now I know. I just wanted to be sure that you didn't want me anymore."

He grabbed her hands, pressing that twenty into one. "You can't believe I'd let you buy a drink in my bar."

"Old lovers drink for free here?" she asked sarcastically.

"No," he said. "Good friends' drinks are on the house." He leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. I didn't mean to." He took a deep breath. "I never saw it coming."

She sighed. "I understand, Sam. I miss you, is all. I ain't gonna lie that cock of yours and the way you use it was the best I have ever had. I even have dreams of it. If it all works out for you and her cool, but if it doesn't…"

"Holly, even if it doesn't work out with her, I won't be worth a damn to you or anyone else. She has my heart, and it will take some time before I am even capable of desiring or wanting to lose myself in someone else. It may take years."

She chuckled. "Okay, then. I'll take off. Good luck, Sam." She got in her car, backed out and drove away. He watched until she was gone, then went back inside.

He stood behind the bar, facing Merce. "I'm sorry about that."

"What was that?"

"An old friend."

"Clear River?"

"Yeah. Just checking up."

"Wanting another try for you and that addictive dick you have?"

He nodded. "I made it clear…"

"What did you make clear?"

"That I'm off the market. I tried to do that respectfully. Told her even if you leave me that I don't want her."

Her expression softened somewhat. She smiled a little and put the palm of her hand against his cheek. "Well, I guess I can't bitch slap you about that. Your kindness is one of your best features. But tell me something, is she going to keep showing up here throwing her shot at you?"

"No."

"Good. I don't like competition."

"There isn't any, Mercedes. There never was or ever could be any."

"There better not be. Turns out I'm a very selfish woman, and I fight dirty."

"I broke it off with her before I even held your hand. And believe me I know you can kick her ass and try to take me down, too."

She lifted an amused eyebrow. "That was optimistic of you. You could have ended up with no one. And the only way I could take you is by complete surprise now that you know my skill set."

"A chance I was willing to take. The other way—I didn't want to take that kind of chance. It could have seriously messed up what I wanted. And I wanted you probably will always want you." He smiled at her. "You're being a pretty chill about this," he said.

"Hey. I know why she was here. I wouldn't give you up without a fight and I admire her, but like I said I fight dirty. Wanna take me home? Spend the night, so I can show you how I would have made sure you remained mine?"

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "Please and thank you."

"Get permission from Preacher then. I want you to remember how addictive you say I am over and over again." Then she grinned.