Thank you for your continuous support. I appreciate it.
Standard disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Lucky in Love.
Bonus chapter...to make up for the lack of Samcedes in the previous one, aaand...because I love you guys :)
Eat a square meal a day...a box of chocolate.
On Saturday, the doors of the HSC opened to the public.
The town hadn't exactly been on board, but enough tentative support had trickled in, so Mercedes had been able to talk Biff, into giving her the one-month trial.
Mercedes was no fool, she knew she had Sam to thank, for starting that tentative support.
After the town meeting, a handful of locals had pledged money for certain programs.
Josh Nolan and Dexter Walker, co-owners of the local bar, had donated money, for a Drink Responsibly program. Lucille was donating supplies from her art gallery, for an art program.
Lenny, Mercedes' favorite CF patient, had donated time, to help counsel the chronically ill.
Every day someone else had called. And Biff, deciding it was too much money and goodwill to turn away, had given her the approval.
But things had to go smoothly or it'd be over.
For now, they would be open five days a week for services, providing crisis counseling, education and recovery programs.
And on Saturdays, the HSC would turn into a full-blown medical clinic, where they saw patients nonstop, thanks to their first attending physician, Dr. Scott.
As Mercedes began to close up at the end of the day, Dr. Scott came out from the back.
After a long day, he looked a more badass ruffian than usual.
His doctor's coat was wrinkled and he still had his stethoscope hanging around his neck.
His dark hair was ruffled, and his darker eyes lined with exhaustion. But there was a readiness to him, that said, he wasn't too tired to kick ass if needed.
He'd worked a double shift to volunteer his time today, but Mercedes knew his day wasn't over, not even close. He still had to go home to more responsibility...a young son, not to mention, his own handicapped sister, both of whom he was solely responsible for.
"Nice job today," Dr. Scott said to Mercedes.
"Thanks to you."
He lifted a shoulder, like it was no big deal.
He was a big guy, over six feet and built like a bull in a china shop, which made his talent all the more impressive. He might be serious and just a little scary, but he was the most approachable doctor she'd ever met.
He was also her favorite, because, he treated the nurses with respect. Such behavior should be automatic in doctors, but so often, it wasn't.
This conduct, also tended to land him on Lucille's Most Wanted Single Male list on Facebook, far too often, which drove him nuts.
"I'm glad you got approval for this," he said. "You're doing something really good here."
She glowed over that, as she locked up behind him. As the last staff member there, she walked each of the rooms, cleaning up a little as she went.
They had two exam rooms, a very small staff kitchen, and the front reception area.
There was also a back walk-in closet, being renovated for their drug lock-up, but for now, the drugs and samples, were kept in one exam room in a locked cabinet.
The reception area was big enough to host groups, which was what they would likely have to do during the week.
Tomorrow night was their first scheduled AA meeting. Monday night would be Narcotics Anonymous...NA. Wednesday nights would host a series of guest speakers, all aimed at teen advocacy programs.
It was all finally happening, and it made Mercedes feel useful and helpful.
Maybe, she hadn't been able to help her sister Kamara, but she could reach others.
By the time Mercedes had locked the front door and got to her car, yet another storm was rolling in.
Night had fallen, and the lot wasn't as well-lit as she'd like.
She was on the back side of the hospital, the entrance leading to a narrow side street. She made a note to get the lighting fixed tomorrow and slid into her car, just as the sky started dumping rain.
After inserting her key in the ignition, Mercedes turned it, but nothing happened, just a click.
She tried again anyway and got the same result.
'A dead battery, naturally.'
She peered out her windshield and sighed. Walking home, would be a five-mile trek in the pouring rain, which she was far too tired for.
Plus, her feet hurt, from being on them all day.
With a grimace, she pulled out her phone and called Jace.
"Yo," her brother said. "Bad time."
"Bad time for me, too. I need you to come jump my car. I have a dead battery."
"You leave your lights on again?"
"No."
'Maybe.'
"You owe me, Jace."
She had to put that one out there right away, to start the negotiations. Jace was a deal maker and only dealt at all, if the odds were in his favor.
"I let you and your idiot friends borrow my car, remember?" Mercedes asked. "You needed more seats, to get to that stupid trail party out at Peak's Landing. Maybe this is somehow your fault."
"No, the crack in the windshield is our fault. Not the battery."
She stared at the small crack in the windshield, on the passenger's side and felt an eye twitch coming on.
"Come on, Jace. I could really use your help tonight."
"Christ! Hang on."
He covered the phone and murmured something to someone.
And a muted female voice laughed. Then, he was back.
"Merce, if all you need is a jump, ask anyone around you." He lowered his voice. "I'm on a date. With Alexis."
She had no idea who Alexis was, but she was assuming, it wasn't the blonde.
"What happened to whatshername?"
"That was so last week."
Mercedes let out a disgusted sigh.
"You're such a man ho."
"Guilty," he said, and hung up.
Grinding her teeth, Mercedes called him back.
But he didn't pick up.
"Dammit!"
Mercedes scrolled through her contact list again.
Her mother was out of the question. She wouldn't have a set of jumper cables, not to mention, she'd want to talk about Mercedes' social life.
'Maybe Tammy,' she thought, and hit her sister Tamara's number.
"Hey Merce," her sister said.
"Hey. Can Jeff come give me a jump?"
"Honey," Tamara said. "He's a little busy jumping me right now."
"Oh, for God's sake!" Mercedes said, and hung up, just as her usually dormant temper begun to steam.
She would drop everything for any one of her family members and not a single one of them could help her.
This depressing thought, didn't change the fact that, she was still wet, cold, and stranded in a dark parking lot.
Again, she thumbed her contacts and stopped at one in particular...Mysterious Cute Guy, aka Sam Evans.
She had the stuffed animals he'd won at the arcade, sitting on her bed, like she was twelve years old and in middle school, going steady with the town's bad boy.
Except, would the bad boy really have stood up at a town meeting, in front of everyone and defended her?
Would he have stopped and helped a stranded woman on the side of the road?
Quinn had told her what he'd done. And so had Santana, saying that he'd patched her up with calm efficiency.
Yeah, Sam was far more than just some mechanic. But hell if she could figure him out.
She shouldn't call him for help.
For one, they'd had inappropriate sex without involvement. And to compound that mistake, she'd discovered she liked him. A lot.
And to compound that mistake, she was dreaming about sleeping with him some more.
All really good reasons not to call him.
But then, there was the one really good reason to call him.
He would actually come.
Holding her breath, Mercedes hit Sam's number. He picked up on the fourth ring, his voice low and calm as always.
"Evans," he said.
"Hi. It's Mercedes."
Sam seemed to have absorbed that information for a moment, probably wondering, how she'd gotten his number...a conversation, she absolutely didn't want to have, so she rushed on.
"I'm at the HSC," she said, "And my car won't start, and I'm the only one left here, and the stupid parking lot lights aren't working and..."
"Lock your doors. I'll be right there."
"Okay, thanks..." But he was already gone.
She slipped her phone into her pocket and put her head down on the steering wheel. She felt so tired and her feet hurt.
She could really use a foot rub. And a body rub.
She'd gotten a massage once, last year for her birthday. It'd been a present from Tamara.
Her masseuse had been a nice young lady and the massage had been fantastic.
But Mercedes wondered, what it would be like, to have a man rub his hands all over her body.
And not just any man, either.
She knew exactly which one she wanted...Sam.
She sighed again, picturing herself, lying on her back on a deserted beach at sunset, with Sam leaning over her, in a pair of low-slung jeans and nothing else, his big hands all over her bikini-clad body.
No, scratch that.
No bikini.
And Sam in board shorts. Yeah, board shorts, that fell disturbingly low on his hips, his eyes creased in that way he had of showing his feelings, without moving his mouth.
'Mmm, that's a much better image,' she sighed dreamily.
She was so lost in her reverie, she could 'actually' tell he was aroused.
And she could feel him, when he leaned over her. Big. Hard. Throbbing.
She smiled up at him.
And instead of smiling back, he flipped her over, face down on her towel, leaving her to gasp in shock, waiting breathlessly for him to touch her.
When his lips brushed her shoulder, she wriggled for more.
"Lie still."
His voice was a thrillingly rough command, that she didn't obey, making him groan.
He said her name in a warning whisper, running a finger down her spine, then between her legs, until she was writhing with a moan of arousal.
Then, he did it again.
And again, until she was oscillating her hips, in small, mindless circles, trying to get more of his fingers.
He pushed his thigh between hers, to spread her legs, and then pulled her up to her knees and entered her...swiftly.
He was merciless, slamming into her, as if his life depended on it, reaching to depths unknown as her sweet-hole drew him deeper and deeper.
When she came, she came hard, her cries swallowed, when she pressed her face, to the forearm he had braced on the towel beneath her.
But he was right behind her, shuddering in pleasure, as he collapsed on top of her...
A rap on her window had her jerking straight up and banging her head on her sun guard.
Mouth quirking, Sam waited patiently, while she fumbled to roll down the window.
"Hi," she said breathlessly. "I was just…"
'...Dreaming about you making me come.'
"Sleeping?" he asked.
'Or that. Which is far less embarrassing.'
She nodded and swiped at her sweaty temple with her arm.
"Guess I'm tired."
"You look all flushed. Are you okay?"
Mercedes pressed her thighs together. She was more than flushed.
"Yeah."
"Try starting it now."
She realized, that not only had she slept through him parking next to her, he'd popped both their hoods and had hooked her car up to a set of cables.
'Some nap.'
At least, she hadn't screamed out his name...she hoped.
Mercedes turned the key, and her car started.
Sam turned away and bent over her front end, his head buried beneath the hood.
Absolutely not noticing, how very fine his ass looked from that position, she pushed out of the car and stood next to him.
"You're going to need a new alternator sooner than later," he said.
She stared into the engine compartment, completely clueless about, where the alternator might be.
"Is that expensive?"
"Not for the part." He was still fiddling around. "The labor's expensive, but it shouldn't be. It's an easy thing to replace."
"So, you are a mechanic."
He was still messing with…something or the other. Then, he pulled out her dip stick and checked the oil.
"I've always been pretty good with taking things apart and putting them back together again," he said.
She could vouch for that.
A week ago, he'd certainly taken her apart and put her back together again. The ease with which she'd come for him, in the storage attic, still fueled her fantasies.
She'd had sex before, even some pretty good sex, but she'd never gone off like that.
"I don't think that was much of an answer," Mercedes said.
Sam looked at her.
"You don't think so?"
"No."
His mouth curved.
"Anyone ever tell you that you're a little..."
"Stubborn? Determined? Annoying?" She nodded. "Yep. Trust me, I've heard it all."
"You need oil. And I work for a government contractor, doing the same sort of stuff I did in the military."
"Stuff?"
Her inner slut, drooled over his sleek back muscles bunching, and stretching the material of his shirt, as he replaced the dip stick.
"Like I'd-tell-you-but-I'd-have-to-kill-you stuff?" she asked.
He actually turned his head her way and smiled, knocking off a few million of her brain cells.
This wasn't good. She needed those brain cells.
"Something like that," he said.
'Classified,' she thought. 'Interesting and disconcerting.'
But it certainly explained the always-ready air he had and the fact that, he looked like a military recruitment poster, only better.
She could see him in hot zones all over the world, working on machinery. Tanks. Subs. Missiles. Or maybe his mechanical talents were ship-oriented.
He'd said Navy...and her stomach knotted, at the thought of how dangerous his life must be.
"You patched up Santana at the diner. That was nice of you."
This yielded her a shrug.
She waited for more information, anything, which of course was not forthcoming.
"It's a good thing you look good in jeans," she said.
Still beneath the hood, Sam turned his head and flashed her a quick smile.
"You're a conundrum, you know that, right?" she told him. "I mean, you've got this whole hands-off thing going about you, and yet, you have no problem putting your hands all over me."
"And mouth," he added helpfully. "I like my mouth on you."
Her entire body quivered.
"What is it about me that you're attracted to?"
"For starters, the sexy underwear you put on beneath your clothes."
"You've only seen my underwear once."
"Twice," he said. "I looked down your top at the pier."
"You did not."
"Pink-and-white polka-dot bra."
"Oh my God!"
"That's what I was thinking." He straightened out from beneath her hood. "And also, while we're on the subject, I like the noises you make when you..."
Mercedes covered his mouth with her hand.
He nipped at her fingers, and her knees wobbled.
'Stupid knees.'
"I like your eyes," Sam said.
"What?"
"Yeah, I like the way they soften when you look at me."
Mercedes stared at him, wondering, if he was just giving her a line, but he held her gaze evenly.
"Keep going," she said slowly.
"I like the way you'd dive into a freak snowstorm, to help a perfect stranger. I like how you treat everyone, as if they're important, including a homeless drug addict. I like that you give one-hundred percent to every part of your life. You don't hold back, Mercedes."
"You…you like all that about me?"
"And also that you like me." He smiled again. "I really like that."
"How about the fact that, you're pretty cocky? Do you like that?" she asked.
"Mmm-hmm. And I especially like, when you use the word cock in a sentence."
She pushed him, and he laughed, so she added another push, and of course, he didn't budge, the lout.
Instead, he stepped up to her, backing her into the car.
"What do you like about me?" he asked.
"Nothing."
Sam grinned.
"That's not true. You like it when I..."
"Don't you say it."
"That's okay," he said. "I'm better with showing, not telling."
At that, he covered her mouth with his. And then his hands got into the fray, and she heard a low, desperate moan.
Hers.
His big palm cupped the back of her head, as he changed the kiss from sweet and friendly, to demanding and firm and...hungry.
His hand fisted in her hair then, and he kissed her, like he was starving for the connection.
And Mercedes was right there with him.
By the time the kiss was over, neither of them were breathing steadily.
"Wow!" she said and shook her head to clear it. "You ought to be careful with those. A girl might forget herself."
Thoroughly challenged, Sam reached for her again, but she jumped back.
"Oh, no!" she said on a laugh. "You're lethal, you know that?"
"Am I still on your list?"
"Well, let's see. It is a list of Mr. Wrongs, and you're just biding your time, until you're gone, which pretty much means you define Mr. Wrong."
She narrowed her eyes and studied him.
"But then, you show up at the town meeting...after avoiding everyone for months, I might add...and stick up for me." She shook her head. "Who are you, Sam Evans?"
Apparently, he didn't have an answer for that, because, he was back beneath her hood.
"When's the last time you had anyone look at this poor baby?"
"Uh…"
He shook his head and kept fiddling, muttering something about,
"The lack of respect for the vehicle, even if it is a piece of shit."
"Where did you learn respect for your vehicles?" Mercedes asked, teasing.
"My dad. He was a mechanic in the Navy."
"Ah. So it runs in the family."
"Yeah. And my mom was Air Force."
She smiled at that.
"A military brat through and through, huh?"
"All I ever knew," Sam agreed, tightening some part or another.
"Which is why you're interested in a Vet program at the HSC," she guessed.
'And personal experience.'
And he'd made good on his promise too. She'd gotten a nice check, earmarked, for what would be a damn good program, by the time she was finished with it.
And all he'd asked her to do, was to make sure she got a good counselor involved, one who could help people like Ray.
And she would do just that.
"What are they doing now, your parents?" Mercedes asked.
"My dad died in Desert Storm. And my mom a couple of years ago from pneumonia."
Her heart stopped, and her smiled faded, as she watched him continue to inspect…whatever he was inspecting.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, knowing better than most, how inadequate the words were.
"Everything else looks okay for now." Sam straightened. "I'll follow you home to make sure."
"There you go again," she said softly, still unbearably touched by his losses. "Wanting to be on my list of Mr. Wrongs, but acting like…"
'A Mr. Right,' she thought. She couldn't bear to voice it.
But Sam could finish her thought. He knew exactly what she refused to say.
"Make no mistake," he said quietly. "I'm wrong for you. All wrong."
Of that, she had no doubt.
Stay safe!