Thank you for your continued interest and support. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Grayson's Vow.

MERCEDES

I had no idea what had happened. I thought Sam was going to kill me one minute...eyeing me with that predatory intensity...and the next minute kissing me!

My lips still tingled from the feel of his mouth on mine and I raised my fingers to them, pressing gently to feel the tenderness as if I might've dreamed what had just happened.

Even worse than the fact that he'd kissed me, was how deplorably I'd responded to him. Again.

My mind had been prattling relentlessly in the background about why I should pull away. But I hadn't been able to force myself to listen, instead letting him know exactly how much I'd liked it.

How humiliating.

Especially after what he'd pulled on our wedding night...

Flopping down on my bed and causing the rusty bedsprings to creak, I stared up at the ceiling, confusion racing through my system.

I had been avoiding him and vice versa since the day he'd gone on a date with another woman and presumably slept with her as a matter of fact.

I pressed my lips together at the memory of that day, but did my best to shrug it off as I'd been doing since it happened. Mostly successfully.

And, when necessary, with the help of the few bottles of wine I now kept in my cottage.

Being married to Sam Evans was going to turn me into an old drunk who lived in a dirty gardener's shack.

The plan to improve my circumstances was going splendidly so far!

I groaned aloud, my thoughts moving back to Sam. He hadn't enjoyed the tree climbing and had appreciated the tractor dancing even less, but who cared?

He was a dragon that ran hot and cold. Plus, I was bored. And my father said too much excess time on my hands always brought out the worst in me.

He was probably right on that score at least.

Life was full of so many possibilities. Why should a person spend even one day of it being bored?

What I needed to do was drive to San Francisco and spend a couple weeks working at the various charities I supported.

I longed to be busy in a way that made a difference to others.

I hadn't gone because I wanted to take several checks with me. I also wouldn't be able to afford even a temporary place to stay until I got my official marriage license and the trust money came through.

Marriage license...

Sam...

My husband... Who had kissed me!

I didn't understand it because he'd made it so perfectly clear I wasn't his type, and that I shouldn't get any ideas. And then he'd done that?

It had to have been out of anger; there was no other explanation. Surely he hadn't really wanted to kiss me...

Surely it was similar to the first time he'd kissed me...an attempt to gain the upper hand.

We could move past this. We just needed to go back to ignoring each other. And I had to control my impulsive escapades for once in my life. Right?

My disjointed thoughts were interrupted by a loud knock on my door. I stood up quickly and called,

"Who's there?"

"It's me."

Sam...

I wasn't ready to face him.

"I'm busy," I called. "Go away."

"Mercedes." His voice held the vague hint of annoyance. "This cottage doesn't have a lock. I'll come in whether you grant me permission or not. But I'd rather have permission."

I fisted my hands... Arrogant dragon!

"Fine, come in," I gritted out.

I stood still as I listened to him enter and make his way through the front room. And then he was standing in the doorway to my room.

I looked away because I didn't want to think about how handsome he was and how good his soft, full lips had felt on mine when he actually put some effort into it.

And how I could still taste him on my tongue.

"We should talk about what happened just now," he said in a hushed voice.

"What?" I asked flippantly, turning my body towards the window.

"You don't remember?" he asked. And I heard the note of humor in his tone. "If my kiss was that forgettable, maybe I should try again. And do it better this time. I thought I'd improved my efforts compared to the first time, but maybe we need even more practice."

"No," I said, whirling back towards him. I took a breath... "No, that won't be necessary. We were both...heated. That sort of thing happens sometimes. It's no big deal." I waved my hand around. "You can rest assured I won't get any ideas from it. No fanciful notions."

He gave me a boyish half smile filled with the irresistible charm I was sure resulted in women throwing themselves at him every hour on the hour.

Women like Jodi... The woman he'd slept with on our wedding night. Not that I was thinking about that again, because I wasn't.

He moved a step closer...

"Maybe I'm the one who's getting a few fanciful notions," he said.

"Oh," I whispered. My breath had suddenly grown as thin as bridal lace. So I took in a lungful of air... "Well, that's not a good idea either. It would only complicate things. Plus, I'm not your type, remember?"

"I think I might have been wrong on that score, Mercedes."

He moved even closer...

"You wanted to kill me," I reminded him.

"Yes, well, you do need to curb your antics. Climbing trees and dancing on tractors... I can't have you getting hurt. Also, you taunted me in front of my men and then whipped me."

Well, when he put it that way...

"By accident," I defended, regarding the whipping part. But my eyes moved to the small cut on his jaw, and I couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt.

He took a strand of my hair and my eyes watched his fingers at the side of my face as he tucked it behind my ear.

His closeness was making me feel all jumbled and confused, his blatant male sexuality turning my limbs to jelly.

I could feel the heat of his body against my own, and picture the taut muscles beneath his clothes.

Then my eyes, having a mind of their own, moved to his beautifully carved mouth, and I remembered the feel of it on mine.

The memory jolted me back to reality...

"I know," Sam said, looking thoughtful. And my mind scrambled to remember what we'd been talking about. "For some reason, with you I'm especially..."

He paused, seemingly searching for the right word.

"Reptilian?" I offered, standing up straight and trying to shake off his effect on me.

"Temperamental," he corrected, giving me a boyishly lopsided grin meant to disarm me, I was sure. It didn't work. Mostly.

His eyes moved over my face for a few moments.

"You probably need something to do. You mentioned some accounting experience..."

"Yes, I worked at my father's office. Secretarial work, accounting..."

"Good. The office up at the house is yours now. I'm sorry to say I haven't had much time to organize anything recently, so you'll have your work cut out for you."

I nodded...

"I'm not afraid of hard work."

His face became pensive as he regarded me, his eyes a dark and fathomless green, hooded by impossibly long lashes.

He looked around at the room we were standing in, his eyes landing on the vases of flowers I'd put out that morning and then roaming to the open doorway of the tiny bathroom.

"I can see that."

Whispers of pride filled my chest. I'd had precious few compliments about my character or work ethic from men in my lifetime.

I was almost embarrassed by how much those four words meant to me.

I wanted to turn them over in my head and savor them for a few minutes, but Sam spoke again...

"It occurs to me that perhaps we were rash in defining our relationship. We're married, Mercedes. There's obviously an attraction between us. Is there any reason we shouldn't... explore that?"

My breath caught in my throat... He was attracted to me?

He... wanted me?

Why?

Because he was horny and I was convenient?

Butterflies took flight in my ribcage as I pictured the first time I'd been with a man.

I stepped back and looked down, unable to hold eye contact with those dark green eyes... Eyes I now saw from up close were the rich color of a lush forest.

And absolutely gorgeous.

"Why do you need me? You have Jodi."

Not bitter, not at all.

"I didn't sleep with Jodi, Mercedes. You were right. It wouldn't have been discreet. But more than that, it wouldn't have been right."

I scoffed, but relief was secretly flowing through my body; not only hadn't he slept with Jodi, but he'd realized his actions could've caused our relationship to look far less than legitimate.

"I'm glad you realized you weren't acting discreetly, but I hardly care what you did with Jodi for any reason other than that," I insisted, lifting my chin.

He just smiled.

"So what do you say? About... us?"

"I can assure you, Sam, you won't be impressed by my talent in that arena."

My eyes momentarily shifted away from his...

His brow furrowed...

"I think, little witch, that I'd like to make my own judgment on that score."

His voice was like warm honey. So sweet...

Fear moved slowly through me. No, I had no interest in going there with The Dragon. He'd likely been with countless women who knew exactly what to do in his bed.

I wouldn't be compared to them. Plus, I'd seen the type of woman he was attracted to, and it definitely wasn't me.

I shook my head...

"It's not a good idea and I'm not interested anyway. I don't like you much and I find you...unattractive. Hideous actually."

Sam chuckled as if I hadn't just insulted and shot him down.

God, he knew no woman in her right mind would ever find him unattractive. But he did think I might be slightly insane, though, so that might work in my favor.

"Also, you have the manners of a dyspeptic reptile," I added to strengthen my argument.

"I can be civilized if I put my mind to it," he said, that same charmingly boyish smile making my stupid, idiotic heart flip again.

"I doubt it," I muttered under my breath.

"I'll prove it. Be ready at six o'clock. I'll pick you up. We never did have that wedding dinner."

Wait, what?

No.

"I'm busy," I shouted as he turned away.

"Six o'clock," he shouted back.

I gritted my teeth, considering standing him up. But the truth was, I was pitifully lonely and had been bored for a week.

A dinner out was hard to resist, even if it had to be with my husband.

Perhaps it would be good to talk, get his mind off this ridiculous notion of us becoming intimate, and start over as we had begun.

This dinner could be a distraction for tonight, and tonight only.

After that, I'd be less inclined to come up with Very Bad Ideas if I was busy doing his books. And he'd be extremely busy soon anyway once the trust money came through.

Things would smooth out, and soon I'd be able to leave here and wipe Sam Evans from my memory forever.

But first...

What did I have to wear to my overdue wedding dinner?

Sam's truck pulled up in front of my cottage at precisely six o'clock. I took a deep, fortifying breath and walked slowly through the brush.

He was standing at the passenger side door, holding it open...

"My, my," I said. "You do have manners when you care to use them. Who would've guessed?"

His smile was that of a very satisfied, decidedly non-dyspeptic reptile...sweet, with a devilish twinkle. So I took his hand and stepped up into the cab.

He was freshly shaven and his still semi-wet hair glinted in the sunlight, the blonde strands glossy, darker and tousled.

He was wickedly gorgeous and I looked away, making a vow to harden my heart against him. If there was one thing I knew, men like him were adept at getting what they wanted by using charm, and I wouldn't fall for it.

Once he was seated in the cab with me and we were pulling through his front gate, I asked,

"So where are you taking me?"

"A local place I think you'll like."

He said it casually, but a worried expression settled on his features for a brief moment before it flitted away.

I twisted the necklace I was wearing as I watched his profile, wondering what he was thinking. He looked over at me and his eyes moved to my hand where I had one finger wrapped around the chain at my chest.

And then they lowered to my cleavage, his gaze lingering for several beats before he looked back to the road.

I had settled on an empire waist, yellow sundress and a pair of navy wedge heels. But at the moment, with the way Sam's eyes had lingered on my exposed skin, and with the feel of the low simmer of sexual tension in the cab of the truck, I was wishing I'd chosen something less revealing...like a sari for instance or maybe a muumuu.

"So, Mercedes, you said you were in Africa up until recently. What was it you were doing there?" Sam asked conversationally.

Ah, now that he suddenly wanted me to warm his bed, he'd decided to take an interest in me. How typical.

Little did he know, though, I knew his game and wasn't falling victim to it.

I cleared my throat...

"A friend of mine was building a hospital. And I decided to help with the effort."

He glanced at me...

"A friend?"

"Well actually, a boy I had sponsored through a charity program. Anyway, Kojo had become a friend over the years...through letters of course. His mother had suffered with something called an obstetric fistula after his birth when she was only thirteen, and it fueled his lifelong dream to become a doctor."

Pride filled my chest as I considered my friend...

"It's practically unheard of here in America," I went on. "But it's a big problem in Africa due to the very early age many girls marry and become pregnant. Their little bodies simply aren't ready to bear children and they have a wretched time...often in labor for days and days and frequently losing their baby, too. And then they live in a terrible state due to the fistula they develop. Anyway, Kojo opened a hospital to repair fistulas for these women, some of whom have lived with them for years, and to help those who have just lost babies. It's an amazing accomplishment for someone so young..."

I suddenly stopped talking, realizing I'd gotten caught up in the passion of the project as I usually did when I talked about it. I felt myself blush.

"Sorry, I..."

"You're passionate about it. It's admirable. And it sounds like a very worthy endeavor. You helped one person, who in turn helps so many now."

Sam looked over at me with a look I thought might be sincere respect. And my heart warmed despite my vow to keep it cold and removed.

"So you helped see the hospital completed and you came home?"

I studied my nails...

"Well, almost. I would've stayed until the ribbon-cutting ceremony, but there was an...um...an incident."

He raised a brow...

"An incident?"

"I...uh... challenged a tribal leader to a foot race."

"Of course you did."

I noted Sam's sarcasm, but as I glanced over at him, I saw amusement in his eyes that looked almost affectionate, and so, I laughed softly.

"Apparently, tribal leaders don't enjoy being called out publicly. In any case, I thought it best for Kojo and his project that I distance myself, literally. So I flew home a bit earlier than I had originally intended."

'And before I'd had a chance to come up with a better plan than marrying you, Samuel Dragon Evans.'

We pulled into a parking spot in downtown Napa and walked to an Italian restaurant I'd seen before, but never dined in.

It was in a stately old bank building with large stone columns flanking the front.

"I thought it was apropos," Sam said, opening the front door for me. "That our first date be inside a bank. After all, a bank is where it all started..."

I raised my eyebrows.

"True. Although, this isn't a first date. It's merely our friendly wedding dinner. Practically a business function, actually."

Before he could answer, a hostess greeted us.

"Sam Evans. I have a reservation for six thirty."

The girl gave him an admiring look, smoothed her hair back in an obvious preening gesture, and turned to lead us to our table.

I couldn't help but notice the glances our way as we walked through the restaurant to a table near the back of the main dining room.

Some of the looks were merely female admiration for Sam, but many of the glances seemed almost disapproving. And I couldn't help but hear whispers of his name...

It didn't sound like the talk was of a positive nature.

I frowned, noticing the rigid way he was holding himself as we followed the hostess.

Then I recalled overhearing the two girls in the store...

You couldn't take him home to Mama now.

And I furrowed my brow.

Once we were seated and had each been served a glass of wine, Sam started to relax slightly.

I looked around, and eyes darted away from us rather than making eye contact. We were obviously being discussed.

I remembered what a small town Napa was. All these people were gossiping about Sam. And judging him.

Perhaps for his crime...

Perhaps for the reasons he was back...

Perhaps for the fact that his family business was in ruin...

Perhaps for the 'fact' that you couldn't take him home to Mama now.

My heart went out to him. I knew just what it felt like to be judged. And to be found severely lacking.

Sam, however, appeared almost immune to the whispers around him, but something told me he wasn't.

I looked at him, sitting stiffly and studying his menu just a tad too intensely, and the vow I'd made to stay detached crumbled.

"I find..." I said softly, moving my hand slowly across the table to lie on top of his. "...that sometimes the best thing you can do is smile."

When my hand made contact with his, he jolted very slightly, his eyes meeting mine. The look there was so intensely vulnerable, my heart stuttered in my chest for a few beats.

That was the man I'd first seen outside the bank...

"Try it," I encouraged gently, tilting my head and giving him a big, bright smile.

He returned a small, tightlipped grimace.

"Is that your smile? Truly?" I pretended to shudder. "Looks more like a demented hyena."

He looked shocked for a second, but then he leaned his head back and laughed. And the resulting smile was big and bright and very, very beautiful.

I grinned back. And suddenly, the tension waned.

Then I withdrew my hand, yet, my skin still felt warm from where we'd touched. However, we eased into mostly casual conversation after that, talking about mundane things through our meal.

And somehow, I didn't want to break the spell of easygoing friendship we'd suddenly seemed to find.

As our dessert was served, an older woman came up to our table, a young woman lingering behind her nervously.

"I thought that was you, Sam Evans," the older woman said. "I wasn't sure, though. You've neither shown hide nor hair of yourself in polite society since you...ah, returned."

She turned to me, holding out her hand.

"I'm Destra Fabray. You must be one of Sam's girls," she said, contempt practically dripping from her surgically plumped lips.

"Actually, Destra," Sam cut in. "This is my wife, Mercedes Evans."

My eyes flew to Sam's and I swallowed, shock rendering me silent. I hadn't been prepared to hear those words.

Destra Fabray's face drained of color...

"Your wife? Why, Sam, I'm your mother's oldest friend and I didn't get an invite to the wedding?"

"Stepmother," Sam corrected. "And we had an intimate ceremony." He took my hand and smiled into my eyes. "We couldn't wait."

"I...see," she said, her eyes moving over me, landing on my hand that was on the table, widening when she saw the ring on my left hand. "Well, this is certainly a..."

"Mom, we should go. Hi, Sam," the younger woman standing just behind her mother said.

"Hi, Quinn," he replied, more warmth in his tone. Quinn blushed, looking away...

Ex-girlfriend?

"Yes, you're right, dear. We should go," Mrs. Fabray said. She turned back to us... "Well, my congratulations," she said, sounding anything but congratulatory. "After what happened with Olivia... Well, you must still be trying to get over that." She shook her head. "Breaking your engagement and then, while you were in prison, marrying..."

"We weren't engaged," Sam said, his voice steady and cold.

Olivia?

Destra Fabray waved her hand in the air.

"Oh, well, we all knew you would be soon enough. Your mother told me you'd even bought a ring. And then..."

"Mom!" The young woman, Quinn said harshly from behind her. She smiled apologetically at both of us, pulling on her mother's hand.

"Ah, well, I'll see you around, I'm sure. Good evening," the older woman said, allowing her daughter to lead her away.

When they had only moved a few steps from our table, she leaned towards her daughter and whispered none too quietly,

"You dodged a bullet with that one, dear. An ex-con. I hear the vineyard is barely scraping by... After all the heartache he put his parents..."

Her words faded as she moved farther away, but the sound of her tsk-tsking carried through the restaurant.

I waited until they had disappeared from sight before speaking.

"Your wife?" I asked, keeping the small smile plastered to my face for appearance's sake. "I thought you might just introduce me as Mercedes."

Sam's jaw ticked once, then twice, before he made a visible effort to relax, leaning back in his chair and regarding me.

"You said we should make our marriage look real for the sake of preventing your father's suspicion. I just figured if word gets around town that I'm married, it couldn't hurt in that effort. Destra Fabray is one of the biggest gossips in town."

"Oh..."

I nodded, even as he took the credit card receipt from the waiter and began signing the slip.

The Ice Prince was back... And I felt unreasonably hurt.

I wanted to be grateful he was putting some effort into making our marriage look real in public, but I knew he hadn't mentioned I was his wife for my sake, or because of my father.

He'd mentioned I was his wife as a way to shut up Destra Fabray. I had known he ran hot and cold, but we had been getting along so well before that woman showed up and mentioned his ex.

What was that all about anyway?

Had some woman jilted him?

And where was she now?

I wondered if she lived in Napa... And if she'd hear about our marriage now.

Ah well, I couldn't concern myself with my husband's personal life. No matter how physically tempting he could be, trying to read him was exhausting.

Sam led me out of the restaurant to his truck. The comfortable mood we'd managed during dinner was gone, replaced by the awkwardness of his cold distance.

But when we were both seated in the cab of his truck, he turned to me...

"I'm sorry about that, Mercedes. I've lived in this town my whole life, and a lot has happened with my family in the last six years. People are curious, I suppose. And I'm sorry I exposed you to it."

"Curiosity is different than blatant rudeness," I murmured, staring out the front window.

He sighed...

"I probably deserve their rudeness. As far as Napa is concerned, I'm a murderer and an ex-con. And I murdered a neighboring town's golden boy."

I remembered the reading I'd done about his crime online. The boy who had died had lived in the nearby county of Sonoma.

I bit my lip, not knowing exactly what to say.

"You didn't murder him, Sam. It was an accident. You told me so yourself."

"And yet he's dead all the same."

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a good..."

"No!"

We sat in uncomfortable silence for a minute or two before he finally turned to me, his mouth curving in an ironic smile.

"I know how to show a girl a good time, huh?"

I laughed out a small sound.

"I'm sure all your other girls don't complain."

He grimaced slightly.

"Sorry about that. Despite the fact that my stepmother was never overly fond of me, Destra wanted her daughter and me together. But Quinn just..."

"Wasn't your type?"

I raised an eyebrow.

He chuckled...

"She was always just a friend."

Speaking of women who were his type...

"Sam, who's Olivia?"

He didn't answer immediately, but I saw his shoulders stiffened. He continued to stare out the front window as he said,

"Olivia is my brother's wife."

"Oh," I said, the word was more breath than sound.

His brother had married his girlfriend...the woman he'd been planning to marry...while he was in prison?

I winced, imagining what that must've been like for him. No wonder he didn't speak to his brother anymore.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said, at a loss for what to say.

He nodded his head once, acknowledging my words, and then started the truck and pulled out of our parking spot.

The ride home was mostly quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. And when we pulled around the fountain and stopped in front of his house, Sam turned to me and asked,

"Do you want a drink? I happen to own a bottle of wine that I have on expert authority is quite delightful."

I smiled. I was probably being foolish to care, but it seemed as if he didn't want to be alone. What could one drink hurt?

"Delightful, you say? I like delightful."

He laughed softly. We got out of the truck and I followed my husband inside his house.

Tomorrow is another long day at work, so there might not be an update until Monday.

Stay safe!