Standard Disclaimer: None of this story originally Wild Night by Mari Carr or Glee situations and characters belong to me.
Chapter Nine
Mercedes considered repeating her request that Sam leave with a little more gusto, then mentally kicked her own ass.
Was she seriously going to turn down a night with Sam, a comfortable bed, and an array of sex toys?
Hell no.
Sam stepped around her and threw back the duvet, laughing. "Wow. You might be the woman of my dreams."
"Might be?" she asked, pretending to be offended. She pointed to the bed. "That's hot and you know it."
"You know you are." He reached for her G-spot vibrator, waving it in front of her. "This looks like it has potential. And what is an oral sex stimulator?"
"The name doesn't say it all? Meet Ora." She reached for her Ora, handing it to him. Then she crossed her fingers to form a hashtag. "Hashtag who needs men?" she joked.
He studied it, then turned it on. His eyes widening. "Nice. But I'm going to make you eat those words. Grab the other vibrator and the dildo and follow me."
Sam led her to the bathroom, shaking his head as he washed off her vibrators. "You should take better care of your toys."
Mercedes watched him, struggling not to laugh at the outright absurdity of the situation. Was she seriously standing in her bathroom in her bra as Sam washed her vibrators and…
He held up the dildo he'd taken from her and blew out a long breath. "Couldn't find a bigger one?" The question was pure sarcasm.
"Marissa gave it to me as a gag gift for my birthday a couple years ago. I whip it out every now and then because I like a challenge."
He studied it for a second longer, then pitched it to the corner. "Yeah well, tonight the only big hammer coming to bed with us is the one in my pants."
"Intimidated?"
He ignored her as he scooped up the vibrators and her Ora and they returned to her room.
"Take off your clothes."
"So demanding," she murmured, even as she unhooked her bra and slid it off. She stripped off her jeans and panties. Once she was naked, she gestured toward him. "Your turn."
He dropped the toys on the bed, then tugged off the shirt she'd already unbuttoned, his jeans going next.
"Still going commando, huh?"
"Worked late a few days this week. Missed laundry day. Lay down on the bed. You're going to give me a toy demonstration."
Mercedes climbed onto her bed, shaking her head. "If I wanted to play with my toys, you wouldn't be here."
He picked up the oral sex simulator, then crawled onto the bed, pressing her to her back and caging her beneath him.
Mercedes wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him toward her for a kiss. She was becoming somewhat addicted to Sam's kisses. He held his weight on his elbows as he kissed her senseless. The man really took his time with her lips, stroking them with his tongue, giving her playful nips. He didn't rush them along to the next part, like most of the men in her past.
She'd never met a guy who considered kissing serious foreplay. Not like Sam did. She ran her hands through his hair, then stroked his beard. She hadn't dated many men with facial hair, either, and she liked the extra sensation it provided.
She giggled softly when he slowly broke the kiss, his lips trailing over her cheek.
"Something funny?" he murmured, drifting to her ear, sucking on the lobe for a second before moving down to her neck.
"Your beard tickles," she whispered.
"I'd shave it off, but I've been told I can't pull off the beardless look as well as Steven. Something to do with my trouty mouth."
She laughed breathlessly for a second before the sound turned to a gasp. Sam was currently putting that mouth to very good use, licking her nipple.
"Good Lord. So good." She tried to hold his face to her breast, but Sam clearly had a different plan. He kept moving south, until he knelt between her outstretched thighs.
Her eyes had drifted closed, but they flew open when she heard a buzzing sound just a second before Sam held the Ora against her clit.
"Oh my Good Lord!" Her hips lifted of their own accord, trying to seek out more stimulation. Sam had quickly bypassed the slower speeds, going straight for the kill. She'd treated herself to the expensive toy last Christmas, deciding she wanted higher-tech, better orgasms. The cheap toys just weren't cutting it anymore.
Sam was wielding the thing like a professional, driving her to the edge of a climax in less than a minute.
Just before she could catch it, though, he turned the toy off.
"No. Wait!" She tried to pull it back to herself, but Sam tossed it to the foot of the bed, out of her reach. "Dammit, Sam."
He lowered his head, his breath hot on her sensitive, very wet center. He didn't say a word as he ran his tongue along her slit.
"Oh hell," she breathed, her body trembling as he sucked her clit in his mouth roughly. Mercifully, Sam was smart enough to grip her hips before his attack, otherwise she might have hurt him with her wild gyrations.
He sucked harder, then wiggled his tongue against her clit.
"Who taught you that?" she cried.
Sam chuckled, the response only adding more vibration to her already overstimulated clit.
"Sam!" She came hard, her bones rattling with the impact. A meteor striking the planet wouldn't have shaken her with this much intensity.
Sam was a sucking clit master.
She struggled to catch her breath, as Sam rose up until he was kneeling once again. As her wits returned, he gave her a wicked grin, repeating her hashtag gesture with his fingers. "Hashtag Sam one, Ora zero."
She laughed, giving him the win. She could be generous. Considering she'd actually been the biggest winner.
"Get inside me, you lunatic." Mercedes tried to draw him to her, but Sam resisted.
"Hang on. Let me grab a condom."
For a moment, Mercedes was tempted to tell him to skip it, but she shoved that ridiculous thought away fast. She was jumbling up things that couldn't be jumbled.
The sex with Sam was great, but that was all it was. Sex.
That was all it could be because her plan remained the same. Her desire for a baby hadn't dimmed a single bit.
Sam retrieved the condom and slid it on.
She shoved away all thoughts of babies for now. Tonight wasn't about that.
"Come here," she whispered, crooking her finger at him.
Sam moved back over her body and placed his cock at her opening. They groaned in unison as he slid deep in one slow thrust.
"You feel so good," he said, holding his weight on his elbows so he could kiss her again.
He tilted his hips in an easy, gentle rhythm as he made love to her mouth.
Oh Lord almighty. It finally dawned on her why sex with Sam felt so different, so special.
With other men, it had always been boring and perfunctory with them seeking their pleasure and never hers first.
But Sam didn't do that tonight. Instead, he made her feel cherished, precious. Important to him.
If this was his standard operating procedure, she couldn't understand how he'd remained single so long.
"Sam," she murmured, her hands stroking his back, her lips sliding over his bearded face.
"That's right, Cedes. Say my name. Remember it's me." He lifted up, his weight on his hands as he slightly increased his pace, taking her gently but still going deeper inside of her than she thought possible . She lifted her hips each time he slid back in, urging him to go faster and harder, needing more, demanding more, and he answered the call by speeding up and thrusting harder giving her more pleasure.
It was as if she'd triggered something inside him when she spoke his name. And now, holy crap, he was staking a claim, imprinting his name on her body, in her memory.
"Sam. Good Lord! I'm…"
"I'm there too. Say my name again, Mercedes."
"Sam!" she cried, white light flashing behind her closed eyes.
"Mercedes. Please baby open your eyes and see who is giving you pleasure. Know that it is me!"
Mercedes fought to give him what he wanted as he continued to bring her to new heights of pleasure. Her orgasm continued. She couldn't come down. She didn't want to. Not ever.
"Sam. Sam. Sam…" His name became a chant as he held her gaze captive, his eyes never leaving hers, so that she saw it the second he was there too.
"Damn. Mercedes. You feel so good, so right. I could do this… I...Mercedes," he breathed, her name almost a sigh as he came as well, his face etched with intense pleasure that almost looked like pain.
For several moments, neither of them moved or looked away. They simply lay there, connected, gasping for breath, staring. She had never had a man look at her the way he was looking at her.
Sam had been in her life since she was five years old. And tonight, it felt like she was seeing him for the very first time.
Sam leaned back in his chair at Pat's Pub and rubbed his way-too-full stomach. Steven sat across from him, doing the same thing. They were both suffering the aftereffects of Aunt Riley's Thanksgiving dinner.
"Every year, I say I'm not going to overeat," Sam murmured, closing his eyes as he fought off the desire to take a brief turkey-induced nap.
"Me too," Steven said. "Then I see that homemade dressing with the trimmings and all the goodness smelling up the house, and I start shoving it in my face like it's my job."
"We haven't even had dessert yet."
Steven groaned. "I'm going to explode if I eat Mom's sweet potato pie."
Sam cracked one eye open. "Are you skipping it?"
"Don't be insane. Of course not."
"Aw hell. Thought that meant there would be more for me."
Despite being closed, the noise level in the pub currently rivaled that of St. Patrick's Day when the place was filled to the rafters with the local patrons.
The Evans family had grown too large over the past few years to celebrate holidays together in someone's house, so they'd moved the festivities to the pub.
Pop Pop had always closed the pub on Thanksgiving, even though many other restaurants stayed open, claiming it was one of the best business days of the year.
Pop Pop insisted holidays were for family, not for making a buck. And since taking over the management of the pub and Sunday's Side, Sam's dad, Dwight, Aunt Holly, and Uncle Biff had kept up that same policy, closing so that the whole family could be together.
Looking around the room, Sam couldn't help but smile and feel blessed. Hunter and Uncle Darren were playing their guitars, a bunch of the little kids dancing around, laughing at the silly songs they were making up.
His mom and aunts were sitting around one large table, drinking wine, reminiscing about past holidays.
His dad and Pop Pop and uncles were sitting at the bar, watching football on the big screen, alternating between cheering or shouting at the refs.
They'd already done the eternal "say what you're thankful for" deal prior to eating the meal. As the family continued to grow, the time it took for everyone to have their turn to speak had expanded exponentially.
Pop Pop always started it, lifting a bottle of Jameson and demanding everyone's attention.
It usually took a few minutes to quiet the crowd, but once everyone saw the bottle of Jameson, the conversations would end and they'd all turn to Pop Pop.
Pop Pop said the same thing every year. His grandfather was grateful for the roof over his head and the food in his belly, but most of all, he was thankful for the greatest family a man could ever ask for. Those words never failed to put a lump in Sam's throat.
Then Pop Pop would lift the bottle of whiskey, take a sip, and pass it on. After that, everyone took a turn, sharing what they were thankful for that year before drinking the whiskey.
Sam had said he was grateful for his thriving practice, for his mom and dad and brother. Like Pop Pop, he typically said the same thing every year as well. But this year, he made an addition…saying he was also very thankful for blackouts. He now considered that particular blackout a blessing.
Then he took a drink of the whiskey and passed the bottle before anyone could question him on it, though he caught the knowing expression on Marissa's face and the curious one on Steven's.
Mercedes admitted she'd told Marissa, Stacey, and Elektra about their blackout adventure on Halloween, and he'd gotten the sense she thought he'd be upset by that.
In truth, Sam had secretly been pleased that she wasn't trying to hide what they'd done. For some reason, it had given him hope that she would soon come to accept what he already knew. The Evans Blessing had struck and there was no going back now.
He knew things weren't exactly clear sailing. Neither of them had brought up her desire for a baby, but Sam didn't believe for a minute Mercedes had changed her mind. Nor should she.
The only thing he wanted to do was convince her to reconsider whose baby she would be carrying. If she was on the same page as him…that would be simple. Because he was already planning their future together.
Mercedes still hadn't caught up. Which meant he had his work cut out for him to stop banging her and start the next part of his plan which was to woo her. They spent a lot of time together having dinners, talking, and watching movies, but now he needed to add candlelight, flowers, candy.
"You haven't been around much the past week. Work keeping you busy?" Steven asked.
"Not really," Sam said. He'd actually been leaving work early and going over to Mercedes's apartment after work every single day since Friendsgiving. At some point, he was going to have to figure out how to work a full day without succumbing to the need to be with her. As it was, his new normal consisted of hightailing it across town so that he was in the apartment and waiting for her when she got home from school.
Of course, given the way Mercedes tackled him within two seconds of dropping her bag by the door, he'd say she was suffering the same unending, aching desire to be with him as well. After sex, they would eat and watch movies and sometimes that would talk until it was midnight about any and every thing.
Steven waited for him to explain, but Sam didn't.
"So," Steven said. "Blackouts?"
Sam chuckled, surprised his twin had managed to hold that question in for so long.
"Blackouts," Sam repeated, adding nothing else. He liked to make his brother work for things.
And Steven, bless him, always took the bait. "Care to elaborate."
Sam hadn't purposely kept Steven in the dark about Mercedes. The truth was, he simply hadn't had the opportunity to talk to him. But even as he considered that, he couldn't help but wonder how Steven would respond. After all, it was Steven who'd broken up all the fights between him and Mercedes when they were growing up. "I slept with Mercedes that night."
"My Mercedes?"
Sam sighed. He really was going to have to break his brother out of the habit of saying that. "My Mercedes," he corrected.
Steven didn't move or respond for a moment. Instead, he studied Sam's face hard, clearly searching to see if he was joking or telling the truth.
"I thought you were with Penny that night," he said at last.
Sam grinned. "Hence my gratefulness for the blackout. I thought I was with Penny, but it turned out to be Mercedes."
"But Mercedes would not have slept with you, did she know it was you?"
Sam shook his head. "She thought she was with Anthony. There was a bit of misunderstanding for about a week and a half, until we sorted it all out." Sam briefly recapped the story, including the part about Mercedes thinking Sam was Steven when she'd woken up to see him clean-shaven. His twin was laughing so hard by the end, he was wiping tears from his eyes.
"Hot damn. That might be the best story I've ever heard."
Sam agreed, not because of the humor—though it was pretty funny—but because it had opened his eyes to the woman who'd been standing right in front of him for nearly thirty years. It was crazy to think he'd had to be blinded by a blackout before he could finally see clearly.
Once Steven managed to pull himself together, more questions emerged.
"So, she's your Mercedes now?" his brother asked.
Sam nodded. "Yeah. She doesn't realize it just yet, but hopefully she'll get there eventually."
"What does she think it is now?"
"Just sex."
Steven choked on the sip of beer he'd just taken. "You're still sleeping together?"
"Oh yeah."
"And neither one of you has killed the other yet?"
Sam chuckled. "No. It's been…incredible. The stuff that dreams are made of. Everything about her is perfect."
Steven leaned closer. "Hot damn. You're in love with her!"
Sam didn't bother to deny it. He hadn't said the words to Mercedes because she'd probably laugh him out of bed. This thing between them was brand-spanking new, something Mercedes would point out to him, as if it was a valid argument. It wasn't. He didn't give a shit about the new car smell on them.
He'd fallen fast and hard. Done the exact same thing he'd always teased Steven about.
"So…the curse?" Steven asked, grinning widely.
Sam rolled his eyes and grimaced. "You know it's not a curse. It is a blessing."
Steven laughed loudly. "Wish I'd known all this before I'd said what I was thankful for because I'd like to change my answer now."
"Let me guess. You're thankful for getting to see me eat crow."
His brother shook his head. "Nope. Thankful that my two best friends in the world found each other. Mercedes's always been like a sister to me, and now—"
Sam held up his hands to cut Steven off. "Do me a favor. Don't say the marriage word in front of Mercedes yet. Don't even say the relationship word. She's…" Sam couldn't quite decide what she was. He knew she was at a definite crossroads in her life. Before the two of them crash-landed into each other, she'd sworn off men and dating in order to focus on becoming a mother.
He'd seen the way she'd looked at Candace on Halloween. Knew he was fighting an uphill battle.
"She's…" Steven prompted.
His cell and Steven's beeped at the same time. They glanced at their phones, and then at each other.
"She's outside," Sam said, standing up. "You get the wine. I'll get the door."
Steven nodded and laughed. Mercedes had just spent all day alone with her mother. While Sam looked forward to the holidays, Mercedes did not, frequently referring to Thanksgiving and Christmas as her journeys to hell and back.
About a decade earlier, she'd started her own new Thanksgiving tradition, escaping her mother as soon as humanly possible, then joining the Evans family for dessert. And wine. A lot of wine.
He flipped the dead bolt on the front door of the pub, trying not to laugh at the haggard expression on her face.
"How's Roz?" he joked.
"Speak that name to me again and I will kill you."
He tugged her inside, locking the door again. Steven was already on his way over to them, a large glass of merlot—and the bottle—in his hands.
"Stevie. My hero. You are the most wonderful man on the planet. Marry me."
Sam expected Steven to give his standard response, to claim she was too much woman for him, but instead, his brother said, "I'd love to, Cedes, but it sounds like you're already taken."
Mercedes turned to Sam. "You told him about Halloween, huh?"
"Sort of surprised you didn't tell me," Steven said.
She shrugged. "Figured I'd leave that to Sam. I told Marissa, Elektra, and Stacey and didn't want to hog all the fun of seeing people's reactions when the bomb was dropped."
Steven laughed. "So you really thought you and I…" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, letting her know that was his favorite part of the story.
"Don't remind me. That was a rough week and a half."
Steven wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "You could've told me. I'm not as fragile as you and my brother choose to believe."
She gave Steven a quick kiss on the cheek. "I know that. I'm sorry. Next time. Full disclosure."
"There is not going to be a next time," Sam said, playfully knocking his brother's arm away from Mercedes. "And hands off my girl. Drink up, Mercedes. It'll make you feel better."
"Not sure a bottle's going to cut it this year," she said as she lifted the glass. "Nothing short of hooking up an IV of wine is going to help me forget the nightmare I just left."
Mercedes took a long drink, chugging nearly half the glass. She was oblivious to the fact her arrival had been noticed by most of his family, and the room had gotten quiet.
When she finally lowered the glass, she looked around, confused, until the light went on. "Okay, okay. You got me. I've fallen off the wagon again. Who had Thanksgiving?"
Sam chuckled and raised his hand. "I did."
"Of course you did."
"Roz never lets me down."
Mercedes rolled her eyes, though the wine was already working its magic. Her shoulders visibly relaxed as she lifted her glass. "Happy Thanksgiving," she called out to everyone. "This year, like every year, I'm grateful for the Evans family. And wine."
Everyone laughed as several of his cousins, as well as his parents, came over to say hello. Sam remained next to her, fighting the urge to pull her close and kiss her.
Once the crowd around them thinned out, he took the wineglass from her and placed it on a nearby table, then he grasped her hand and tugged her to the quiet corridor at the back of the pub that led to the restrooms and storage closet.
He wondered if she'd insist on playing it cool in front of his family, but he should have known better. The second he turned to face her, she was there, her hands in his hair, kissing him with an air of…desperation.
Sam gripped her waist, pulling her closer, until they were breast to chest. They weren't in the main pub area, but they weren't exactly hidden either. Anyone in his family could happen to peer down the corridor and see them.
Not that he gave a crap. He was ready to tell the world about the two of them.
Mercedes moaned as his tongue touched hers, and she pulled away. "You taste so good."
"Aunt Riley puts on one heck of a Thanksgiving feast. I ate everything. Twice."
"Roz managed to outdo herself this year, too. I honestly didn't think she could find a way to make the turkey even drier and collard greens without any pork because she's on some stupid diet, so we didn't get real mashed potatoes. Only mashed cauliflower."
Sam winced. "Sacrilege."
"Right?"
There were tense lines around her eyes and mouth that only appeared after a day spent with her mother. Sam didn't like seeing them there.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug, and he was thrilled when Mercedes sank into it, her cheek pressed tightly to his chest, her arms adding their own strength to the embrace.
"I don't understand how someone can be that genuinely unhappy for sixty years," she murmured.
Sam had to agree. When he looked back over the years, he couldn't think of a single time he'd ever seen Roz with a smile that didn't look forced or faked, and he was fairly certain he'd never heard her laugh. Which made it even more incredible to him that Mercedes had made it out with such an amazing sense of humor. She was quick to laugh and rarely without a smile. "Me either."
"Apparently, she was asked not to chair her club's volunteer potluck this year. I know it's because she drove the rest of the committee nuts the last two years."
He chuckled. "Jeez, Cedes. Only your mom could get fired from a volunteer position."
"I know. She was super pissed off and said the whole thing was going to go straight to hell without her running the show. Then she spent forty-five minutes bitching about something she'd heard through the grapevine about my dad. Apparently, a friend of a friend of a friend ran into him here in the city a few months ago."
"You didn't know he was in town?" Sam asked.
Mercedes shook her head but didn't separate from the hug, still clinging. "Nope." There was precious little emotion behind that response, which simply reinforced the fact that Mercedes had stopped expecting anything from the man a long time ago.
Mercedes's parents had divorced when she was thirteen. Not that it came as a surprise to anyone—Mercedes included—except Roz.
Mercedes had actually confessed once she was shocked her dad had managed to stick around that long.
Roz, however, was blindsided by her husband's departure, and her general unpleasantness before that had turned to hardcore bitterness after. She criticized her ex to anyone who would listen and had for the past twenty-plus years. Time had not healed her wounds. Not even a little bit.
Mr. Jones had tried to remain a vital part of Mercedes's life the first few years after he'd left. Until his ex-wife made it too impossible when she turned fifteen. Then he moved across the country to Denver, met a woman with two sons, and remarried. As far as Sam knew, Mercedes and her dad exchanged birthday cards and spoke on the phone a couple times a year. If she'd ever wanted more than that from her dad, she'd never expressed it.
Actually, after her dad left for Colorado, Mercedes had begun to turn to his father whenever she needed help with something she probably would have gone to Mr. Jones for. It was Sam's dad, Dwight, who taught her how to drive, throwing her in the car with him and Steven, claiming it was just as easy to teach three teens as it was two. Dad had taught her how to change a tire, how to check the engine oil, how to fish. It was his dad whom Mercedes had asked to go with her when she'd saved up enough money to buy her first piece-of-crap car.
Sam placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry it was such a rough day, but hey, at least it's over."
"That would comfort me more if Christmas wasn't a month away. I'm considering running away and joining the circus."
"What if…" Sam took a deep breath, shocked by what he was about to offer, but he did it anyway. "What if you invite Roz to join all of us here for Christmas dinner? There are enough of us that if we all take a turn, no one should have to spend more than ten minutes with her."
Mercedes lifted her head, her expression one of longing and horror.
Jesus. Only Mercedes could pull off a look like that.
Then she leaned closer and sniffed his breath. "Have you been drinking?"
Sam narrowed his eyes. "No, Cedes."
"Why would you want to inflict her on your family like that?"
He chuckled. "They all know your mom. And just like you, they're fine with her. In small doses. We'll divide and conquer. What do you say?"
Mercedes quietly studied his face for a full minute, obviously giving him time to come to his senses. He only continued to stare her down.
"I think that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."
He laughed loudly. "Hell. Talk about a low bar."
Mercedes tilted her head. "Seriously?"
He revised his statement. "Okay, yeah. You're right. It's a high bar."
"Just the same," she said, "maybe you should clear it with your family. I really don't want to impose."
"It's not an imposition." Sam knew his family would be fine with it, especially when they found out about his and Mercedes's change in relationship status.
Deep down, Sam was hoping this Christmas would be the first in a lifetime of holidays he and Mercedes would spend together as a couple. And he knew perfectly well that meant Christmases with Roz as well.
Sam pressed his forehead against hers. "I guess you're going to make me go be social, aren't you? Or can I convince you to go upstairs for a quick make out session?"
"Not going to happen, Evans." She shook her head, though she was grinning widely. His invitation to Christmas seemed to have lifted the weight of the world off her shoulders. "I haven't had my sweet potato pie yet, and there's no way I'm taking a chance on missing it. You know how those vultures are once the desserts come out." One of Mary's former foster parents were an elderly black couple. And her foster mom Mama Carmen had taught Mary how to cook soul food for the year she stayed with them. It was one of the few homes that didn't scar his mom.
Mercedes's favorite part of Thanksgiving was his mom's sweet potato pie pie. She loved it so much, Mary baked one for her for Christmas every year so that, as his mom said, "Mercedes doesn't have to share."
And Mercedes didn't.
She didn't even slice the Christmas gift pie. Just grabbed a fork and went after it.
"Well, if you're not going to come up for some first and second base action, then you're coming up to spend the entire night with me. Nonnegotiable."
Mercedes gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I'm not a fool, Sam. I'm not about to fight you on something I want just as badly." She ran her hand down his chest suggestively before drifting even lower. She just barely grazed his covered cock, but it was enough to wake the boy up. "I'm thinking I might be the aggressor tonight and make you my sex slave."
"Dammit," he muttered. "An erection and jeans don't mix, beautiful. You know that."
She gave him a wicked grin and another stroke, leaving him rock-hard. "I do know that. That's what makes it so much fun for me."
"Payback's a bitch, Cedes. Just remember."
She lifted one shoulder as if she didn't have a care in the world, then she turned back toward the dining area of the pub just as Aunt Riley yelled out, "Dessert!"
He heard Mercedes laughing, perfectly aware she'd left him at a disadvantage as she disappeared among the crowd of his family, all of whom were jockeying for position around the cakes and pies.
Sam readjusted his pants, counted to twenty, then pictured Roz in a bikini. By the time he'd gotten himself under control and to the dessert line, the sweet potato pie was long gone. He looked over and spotted Mercedes with a huge slice.
He narrowed his eyes because, well, it was his favorite too.
She lifted her hand and revealed two forks.
Oh yeah, Sam thought.
Mercedes Jones willing to share his mom, sweet potato pie. This was definitely love.
Now he just had to convince her by being loving to her, expressing his love for her which would be easy to do because she was just so damn loveable.