Hey, I'm experiencing computer problems again, so updates will be varied. Anyway, thank you for your continued support. I sincerely appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Head Over Heels.

"Women might not like to admit their age, but men don't like to act theirs."

Mercedes Jones

Mercedes stared after Sam's truck, her sister's headlights cutting through the cloud of dust in his wake.

"What the hell was that?" Maylene asked.

She was sitting in the backseat, with a towel wrapped around her hair. And she didn't sound drunk now.

"He seemed mad," she added.

"He wasn't angry before," Tessa said, from her shotgun position in the front seat.

Mercedes gave a small nod, as she too wondered what could've happened.

Now that the dust had settled, she pulled back onto the road, replaying the evening in her head.

"It wasn't about us," she said. "I think it was about his messages. Something must have happened."

"I hope everything's okay," Maylene said. "I'd hate it, if he missed helping someone because of us."

Mercedes silently echoed her sentiments.

She'd never seen Sam react like that before. It wasn't his style.

Usually, when things went to hell, he remained calm and quiet. And as steady as a rock.

'It had to be something bad,' she thought, her mind going first to his father, but that didn't hold up.

If he'd had a heart attack, Sam would've been concerned, not angry.

"He sure was surprised to find us in the mud," Maylene said. "I can't imagine what he was expecting, but I can guarantee, it wasn't the three of us in war paint."

Mercedes thought of Sam's expression when he'd come into view, at the edge of the trail and found them.

He'd been irritated, then relieved to find them. Then, he'd looked right at her and hadn't even tried to hide his affection.

The memory brought an unexpected lump to her throat.

Noah and Jackson had known Sam since forever, and yet, he hid his emotions from them all the time.

His emotions and his weaknesses…

But not from her.

He allowed her see him...all of him.

It was a gift, she realized. The gift of himself.

She'd never had such a thing offered to her before, and she was still thinking about it, marveling at it, when she dropped Tessa and a very groggy Maylene at the inn.

Noah and Jackson were waiting to pick up their women, so Mercedes parked and walked around back to the cottage.

And with mixed feelings, she went inside, alone.

She stripped there in the doorway and stepped gingerly to the bathroom, where it took her nearly an entire bottle of her own Shea Butter body wash to get clean.

Afterwards, she slid naked between the soft sheets of her bed and listened to the quiet creaks and groans of the place around her.

Several months ago, she and Tenny had joked about the sounds coming from a ghost...a lonely ghost.

She knew the feeling.

'No. Don't! Life is good,' she reminded herself firmly.

Right now, she and her sisters seemed to be in sync. And the inn was doing well.

Her past was her past, and her present was actually moving along.

It was only her future in question. A future she couldn't quite see or imagine.

Mercedes flopped over and told herself, she'd never given her future much of a thought, so why the sudden worry now?

The answer was terrifyingly simple.

For the first time, she was feeling contented. And she wanted the feeling to last, even though she knew from experience, that nothing lasted.

Sleep didn't come for Mercedes.

Just more concern.

She debated calling Sam, but she had a bad feeling, about whatever it was that had happened tonight.

And she didn't want to interrupt him from something important.

But on the other hand, he could already be home, and not calling her, because he thought she was asleep.

That thought settled it.

She made up her mind, she'd go to his place and see if his truck was there.

And if he was mad, he could tell her in person, exactly why.

When Mercedes pulled into Sam's driveway twenty minutes later, she let out a breath of relief at the sight of his truck.

Parking the Vespa next to it, she headed up the walk and knocked softly.

Sam opened the door in low-slung jeans and nothing else, but a decent amount of testosterone-driven attitude.

And for the first time since they'd been doing this, he didn't seem happy to see her. And dread enveloped her heart.

"Is it too late?" she asked, much more mildly than she felt.

"Since when has that stopped you?"

She stared at him for a beat, then turned to go.

"I shouldn't have come..."

"Mercedes..." He sighed and pulled her back around. "Come in. You're cold."

No, she wasn't. She was scared. Not of him, never of him, but of what was going to happen between them.

Or not happen.

With butterflies flying around in her gut, Mercedes shut the front door and leaned back against it.

She tried to get a read on Sam, but as usual, his face was giving away nothing.

"I didn't think you were upset about the mud springs," she said. "Which, by the way, wasn't my idea." She winced. "Okay, so it was, but I'd been just kidding, and then Maylene was all over it, and..."

"It's not about the mud springs."

"Are you sure, because..."

"Not everything revolves around you, Mercedes." And at that, he walked away.

"Well, I know that..." she started, but he wasn't listening.

He was gone.

Her initial thought was to walk out the door, and just let everything go. The old Mercedes would've done that in a heartbeat.

But she didn't want to be that person anymore...that person who skipped town, rather than face hard reality.

So she pressed a hand to her nervous stomach, dropped her purse in the entryway, and forced herself down the hall after him.

That's when she saw the low wooden coffee table, and an entertainment unit against the wall.

He had been busy making the place look more like a home. And it brought a small smile to her face.

Mercedes found Sam in the master bathroom, reaching through the shower to open the window there.

And to her surprise, one wall was half painted.

It'd been a rather outdated shade of green, which he was covering up with the wildly imaginative off-white.

"How did you decide on a shade?" she asked.

"It was on sale."

She might have smiled, if it hadn't been for the knots in her gut.

"It's two a.m."

"Yep," he replied and reached for the roller.

Every part of her wanted to run for the door, say 'what the hell, it'd been fun while it lasted,' because she'd known, God, she'd known, that this couldn't last.

But the hell with being a big, fat chicken.

She was braver now.

She didn't understand. And she needed to understand.

"So what was that call about earlier? More crazy women skinny-dipping by moonlight somewhere?" Mercedes asked.

"No," Sam replied. Then, he rolled a careful stripe of paint, that was perfectly even.

'No crooked walls tonight,' she thought.

"Your dad okay?" she asked.

"He's fine. Blowing me off, but fine."

"Blowing you off?"

Sam shrugged.

"He told me to stay away, that he'd got some kid to do odd jobs around his place. A really great kid who's always on time and doesn't try to screw him and is a fucking pillar of virtue."

"Well, good for him," Mercedes said. "Those pillars of fucking virtue are really hard to find."

Sam tossed the roller down.

"There's no damn kid, Mercedes. He's making him up."

"Maybe he's trying to save you the time, or save face."

"Save face?"

"Yes, you know, stupid male pride?"

"You don't understand," Sam said grimly. "And how could you? I've never told you about who I used to be."

"So, you were a punk-ass kid," she said. "So what? A lot of us were."

"You don't know."

"I know who you are now," she said. "And that's all that matters. You're loyal, strong, caring..."

He snorted and went back to painting. Clearly they were done discussing this.

She stared at his broad, expansive back, watching with avid interest, as the muscles there flexed and bunched, while he stroked the walls with the roller.

"Do you have another roller?" she asked. His reply was immediate.

"No."

At that, she squeezed in between him and the wall and said,

"Hi. My name is Mercedes, and you might not have noticed, but we're friends. Naked friends, sure, but friends nevertheless. And friends share. If it wasn't your father tonight that pissed you off, what was it?"

Sam met her gaze.

"We're more than just messing around naked friends, Mercedes," he said.

And she did her best to squelch the burst of emotion those words caused.

"Then, talk to me."

He made a restless movement with his shoulders, like he was to-the-bone exhausted.

"If you're mad at me," she murmured, "I think I deserve to know why."

Sam stared at the wet paint on the wall above her head.

"It's not you I'm mad at."

"Then who?"

"Myself." He drew a careful breath. "I'm between a rock and a hard place here, with what I can say."

"Okay," she said, moving, so she didn't have to crane her neck looking up at him.

"It's DEA business. We've been waiting on a break. I'm on call now, but thanks to me being out of range tonight, our lead went underground and took any possible evidence with him."

Mercedes closed her eyes, stricken with guilt.

This was because, he'd been at the mud springs checking on her and her sisters.

"Oh, Sam, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

His gaze swiveled to hers, and he studied her meditatively.

"That's your only question?"

"No, I have at least a dozen, but I'm working on not being an impulsive pain in your ass."

With a quiet laugh to himself, he asked,

"How is it you're so good for me, and yet so bad at the same time?"

Well, if that didn't reach out and punch her in the gut.

"It's a special talent of mine," she managed.

His gaze roamed her face, and she hated this...hated standing here, waiting for him to tell her that they were through.

Because, that's where this was going, she knew it.

She felt it.

Everything about his voice and expression told her so, and now she knew, that she should have left when she had the chance...left and pretended, she'd never found contentment and security in his arms.

"You asked if there was something you could do for me," Sam said quietly.

Mercedes nodded numbly.

"You could come here."

Without hesitation, she moved closer, pressing her cheek against his warm, naked chest, finding comfort in the strong, steady beat of his heart against her ear, as his arms surrounded her tightly.

"I'm not the man you think I am, Mercedes," he said into her hair.

"Wrong," she said and pulled him closer. "You are exactly who I thought you were."

Then, she kissed him, hard.

And he responded, by pressing her up against the one dry wall, holding her there, with every inch of solid, hard muscle.

And he was hard...everywhere.

"Feeling better?" she whispered.

"I'm feeling something. Where's your inhaler, Mercedes?"

"In my purse by your front door. I just used it."

She slid her arms up around his neck and again, pulled his head down to hers.

"As a precaution," she added, and a ghost of a smile briefly appeared on his face.

The wall behind Mercedes was giving her a chill, but Sam's mouth was hot and urgent on her throat.

And the hard curves of his back, burned warm against her fingers.

"I'm sorry about tonight, Sam. So sorry," she quietly said.

"It can't happen again. Not ever again," he said.

The words skittered down her spine, causing a shiver. Because, whatever it is between them, was going to be over.

She'd known that. A part of her had always known that.

But it was going to destroy her.

Tomorrow.

For now...right now...she still had this. She still had tonight.

And Sam wanted her...that much she knew...and she wanted him.

More than she'd ever wanted anyone in her entire life.

Not willing to waste another second of it, Mercedes slid her hand between them to unsnap Sam's jeans.

At that, he lifted his head, his gaze searching hers.

Somehow, his expression softened, and he took over, stripping out of his jeans.

He was commando, and she took him in, one taut muscle at a time.

He was heart-stopping.

And completely breathtaking.

He unzipped her sweatshirt and groaned at the strip of skin he exposed, from the pulse point of her throat, to the hip-hugging waistband of her jeans.

Then, he tugged the sweatshirt off, letting it fall to the floor on top of his jeans.

Her bra went next.

"Turn around," he softly commanded.

When she didn't move fast enough, he spun her, so that she faced the mirror, setting her hands on the countertop, like he was going to frisk her.

Instead, he pressed up close behind her, and together they looked at her body in the mirror.

Mercedes could feel his warm breath on her neck, coming a little faster than his usual hibernation rate of breathing, and it gave her a little thrill.

"What?" he murmured, when she shuddered, bending to kiss her neck.

She gasped, as his hands skimmed up her torso to cup her bare breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples.

"I make you feel things," she said.

He rocked into her.

"Yeah. You sure as hell do."

Sam unfastened her jeans and nudged them down along with her panties, kicking all the fallen clothes away from their feet.

His hands settled hers on the counter again, one foot nudging her legs farther apart.

When he had her arranged to suit him, he put his hands on her hips and met her gaze in the mirror.

"Are you going to search me now?" she teased.

"Mmm." He skimmed one hand up her belly to cup a breast, the other between her thighs. "I could look at you all day," he said.

Mercedes soaked up the warmth of both his words and his big body behind hers.

But she was impatient.

"Look later." She wriggled. "Do now."

Sam didn't hesitate.

He plunged into her, and she cried out in sheer, mindless pleasure, gripping the counter, as she thrust back against him.

With a groan, he pushed even deeper.

"Open your eyes," he said.

Mercedes hadn't even realized she'd closed them, but they flew open now and met his in the mirror.

His were hot and demanding, much like he himself.

"You want this, Mercedes?"

"Yes. God yes!"

Cursing beneath his strained breath, Sam bent her over the counter, one hand on her hip, the other between her thighs, using it to drive her straight to the edge, and out of her ever loving mind.

There were no other words for what he did to her.

He controlled their movements, and he knew what he was doing, as he took her apart and put her together again.

And in no time, she was flying, and sobbing his name as she came.

Pulling her head back, he kissed her deep, and drove hard.

And soon he was following her, over the edge and into the sea of ecstasy.

Mercedes felt her legs wobbling, and with Sam still holding her, he felt like her only anchor in a spinning world.

They sank to their knees there on the bathroom floor, his arms hard around her, as if, maybe, she was his anchor as well.

And after a few minutes, he kissed her sweaty temple, and asked,

"Okay?"

'Only if I don't let myself think,' she thought. Instead she asked,

"If I say no, can we do it again?"

Sam let out a low chuckle and leaned over her, pushing damp hair from her face.

"You're breathing pretty hard."

"Yes, but that's your doing," she said.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay."

He rose to his feet in one quick, economical movement, scooping her up in his arms.

"Sam..."

"Save your breath."

They were on the move down the hallway.

He snatched up her purse in the entryway and kept moving, right into the kitchen.

Flipping on the lights, Sam set Mercedes on the counter top

It was icy cold on her bare ass, and she squealed. But he merely held her there with one hand and rifled through her purse with the other.

Yanking out her inhaler, he thrust it into her hands. She took a puff and held it in, watching him.

He'd gone from her lover to a cop in a blink, cool and calm and completely in charge.

"Impressive," she murmured when she exhaled. "You're good in an emergency. But you do realize, that I'm not having an emergency, right? I was just…" She let out a low laugh. "You're pretty potent, Sheriff. You sent me out of the stratosphere. I'm still coming down, that's all."

"I thought..." He shook his head. "I thought you were having an asthma attack, because I pushed too hard...rushing you..."

"No." She ran her hands up and down his tense arms. "I'm sorry I scared you, but I'm fine, Sam."

He stared at her, then backed into a chair, minus some of his usual grace, given that he was naked, too.

"I thought you were in trouble," he said.

'Oh, God!' she thought.

How was she going to give him up?

'Don't go there, not now. Tomorrow…'

Mercedes hopped down off the counter, walked over, and straddled Sam, sliding her fingers into his hair.

Immediately, his hands went to her ass and squeezed.

With a smile, she bent over him, lightly brushing her lips with his.

"I actually forgot I had asthma," she murmured. "I hope you know, that's only happened with you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You must be special, to make me forget such a thing."

Between them, his member stirred, and he tightened his grip on her ass, palming her possessively.

Still holding her, he rose and turned to eye the kitchen table speculatively.

"Sam..." she said on a laugh.

There were a few things on the table...a stack of mail, an empty paper plate, his wallet and keys...but with one swipe of his hand, it all hit the floor.

And a ridiculous flutter went through her belly.

He laid her down on the surface of the table and towered over her, planting his hands on either side of her head.

"Let's see what else I can make you forget..."

I hope everyone is enjoying the build-up to the holidays. Much love to you all.

Stay safe!