Thank you for your responses and for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I hope you're all having a wonderful holiday season so far. May it continue and much love to you.
I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Chasing Christmas Eve.
Mercedes had just taken a sip of water, when Sam said the words,
"How about right here...?"
And as a result, her sip of water went the wrong way, causing her to choke and very nearly snort water out her nose.
This would've been no surprise at all to anyone who knew her, but she was really trying to be mysterious here.
'And sexy,' a voice inside her head said. 'Admit it...you want him to think you're mysterious and sexy.'
He handed her a napkin.
"I'm sorry," she said, cleaning herself up. "But I can't stay with you. I'm not..." She shook her head. "...I'm not interested in any sort of relationship. I'm only going to be here until Christmas Eve, so I really have no business starting something. I mean, not that you're not...well, really nice to look at, but..."
He placed a finger to her lips, presently cutting off her little ramble, and all at once, an involuntary shiver rocked her body.
"There's a studio apartment on the third floor," he said, looking amused. "It's furnished and available. Kitty's getting a key to show it to you as we speak."
Mercedes felt her face flame.
Wow, she was such an idiot.
A socially inept idiot, which was yet another reason on her long list of reasons, for running away for the month.
She had no skills for navigating these kinds of waters, none.
She needed a GPS for her life.
Was there an app for that?
Someone needed to invent that...and pronto!
"Oh," she said, not knowing what else to say.
Sam was smiling outright now.
"Are you done with your panic attack?" he asked.
She blew out a breath.
"Yes." She shook her head. "And while it's very kind of you to ask Kitty to get me a place, I don't want to impose."
"There's no imposition," he said. "The apartment's empty."
Mercedes bit her lower lip and studied him.
His smile widened.
"It's sad when it's empty," he said.
At that, she burst out laughing and it felt so foreign, that she laughed some more.
'Maybe,' she thought, 'Maybe today, even with the rough beginning, was supposed to happen.'
And maybe being here...right here...was exactly what she needed to get back on track.
"Why would you help a perfect stranger?" Mercedes asked Sam.
"We're not strangers," he said. "We went swimming in the fountain together."
"But I don't even know what you do for a living," she said, just as Fergus came back to top off their drinks again.
He slid a look at Sam, seemingly curious, as to how he would respond to this.
But Sam didn't respond, so Mercedes tried Fergus.
"Want to tell me why your friend is so mysterious about his job?"
"No can do," Fergus replied, but he said it very nicely.
Mercedes eyed Sam again.
"How about if we play Twenty Questions?" she asked.
"Sure," he said agreeably.
"If I get close, are you going to admit it?"
He just smiled.
"Never mind," she said. "It won't matter, because I'm good enough to tell if you're lying."
Fergus snorted.
"I like you. I like you a lot, so I feel like I've got to tell you this..." He leaned in, as if imparting a state secret. "There's a bimonthly poker game that goes on in the basement. It's highly competitive. And Mr. Poker-Face here almost never loses. Our boy's got some serious game."
"Kitty used to win every time," Sam said casually. "But that was before they let me join in. Now, the two of us aren't allowed to play on the same night."
"Because they're both asshole losers," Fergus said.
"Hey," Sam said. "Don't sugarcoat it or anything."
"I don't sugarcoat. I'm not Willy Wonka." And then, he moved off to serve other customers.
Mercedes looked at Sam, who seemed like the very picture of laid-back and easygoing and not even close to anything like fiercely intense or competitive.
"So, you play poker," she said, "Which means you're a thrill chaser. What else? Do you play any dangerous sports?"
"Yeah. Sometimes I disagree with Kitty."
Mercedes laughed.
"You don't like to lose?"
"I don't know," he said modestly. "Because I never do."
'Oh boy.'
"Are you a lawyer?" she asked.
It was his turn to laugh.
"No."
She looked at his hands, taking them in hers, turning them over, and running a finger along his work-roughened palms.
"Are you a builder?"
He stared at her for a long beat.
"No. But you're getting warmer."
She blew out a breath and studied his clothes.
Sexy-guy jeans. An expensive-looking, perfectly fitted black button-down, in a material that made her fingers ache to touch. It was opened over a T-shirt that had a series of math equations on it. Or maybe physics.
"College professor?" she asked.
"No."
He had Oakley aviator sunglasses on top of his head and his regular glasses on his face, making her smile. His hair was windblown and still in need of a cut, but clearly, his last one had been excellent.
"You do work though," she said. "Right?"
Again something flickered in his gaze.
"One hundred percent, yes."
"All the time, actually," Fergus offered, as he passed by.
"Porn star?" Mercedes asked.
And Sam grinned.
"Aww, man. You recognized me."
Mercedes had to laugh.
"You're a hard man to read."
"Tell us something we don't know," Kitty said, slipping onto the stool next to Sam. She handed him a key. "The spare to the third-floor apartment."
Mercedes found it odd, that Kitty gave the key to Sam.
What did he have to do with the rentals, if she was the building's general manager?
"Let's go see the apartment," Sam said, standing, and dropping some cash on the bar.
"Oh," Mercedes said, opening her purse, shoving aside some notes to look for her wallet. "Let me..."
Sam put a big warm hand over hers.
"I've got it."
"I appreciate it," she said. "But I have this thing." She met his gaze. "I don't let men pay for my food, because then..."
She broke off and shook her head.
Because then, they thought she owed them.
'Maybe that was just Johnathan,' she thought, but the memory of how badly she'd misread that situation was sobering and she intended to stand by her resolve.
"Because then...?" Sam pressed.
"I just don't like to owe anyone."
"Okay, how about this," he said. "Since you're going to be around for a few weeks, you can get the next round of chicken wings and zucchini chips. Can you handle that?"
Mercedes considered it.
Surely she could find him during her three-week stay and make sure she repaid the favor by feeding him at least once.
"I suppose so, yes."
He smiled at her, and Kitty, looking annoyed, led the way, her heels click-clacking as they walked back through the courtyard, which was so cute and charming, that Mercedes couldn't wait to grab her laptop and sit on one of the wrought-iron benches and write.
It was a thought that had her heart pumping.
She wanted to write! And that was a good sign.
"It's a studio," Kitty warned Mercedes on the third floor, just outside the front door. "So it's small."
"Small is fine," she said. "Thank you so much."
But before Kitty could unlock the door, an old woman poked her head out of the apartment across the way.
"What's going on out here?" she wanted to know.
Kitty waved at her.
"Hi, Mrs. Wallace. We're just showing the apartment to a possible new tenant, that's all."
Mrs. Wallace cupped a hand to her ear.
"What's that?" she asked.
Kitty raised her voice a notch.
"You might be getting a new neighbor!"
" 'Bout time. Is he a young hottie?"
"Well..." Kitty looked like she was trying to hold back a smile.
"It's okay if he isn't young. A silver-fox hottie would probably be just as good. I guess age don't matter too much, as long as he's still got what it takes," Mrs. Wallace said. And then, she looked Sam up and down. "Is it you, Sammy? Because, I could totally handle you."
To his credit, Sam just smiled.
"You think so?" he asked.
"I know so," Mrs. Wallace said smugly and then ruined it by hiccupping and giving them all a whiff of whiskey.
Sam looked suddenly pained.
"Do you remember what we said about alcohol?" he asked.
"Yes." she beamed. "That the Jack mixes with everything but good decisions. Don't worry though...I never mix the two."
Kitty snorted and opened the door.
"Take care, Mrs. Wallace," she said and entered the apartment.
On the inside, with the door closed, Kitty shook her head at Sam.
"You shouldn't encourage her."
"She's still mourning," he said.
"I know. And I also know, that you're bringing her food and taking care of her. And it'd be incredibly sweet, if I didn't also know, you were the one who got her the bottle of Jack."
"It was what her husband used to drink," he said. "She's having a hard time. So I bring her stuff."
He shrugged as if it wasn't a big deal and Mercedes took notice.
'Okay, so he saved people from the fountains and old ladies from grief,' she thought.
He seemed too good to be true, which, in her experience, meant he wasn't to be trusted. She needed to remember that, when he looked at her with those startlingly green eyes.
Shaking that off, Mercedes took in the place.
It was indeed small, but also cozy.
The furniture was sparse but nice. Really nice.
The bed looked brand-new, and sitting on top of the mattress, was an unopened set of good-quality sheets and a pair of down pillows.
She noticed a bar-top counter divided the kitchen from the living area, and there was a dumbwaiter that fascinated her and...
A black cat.
"That's the cat who spooked Daisy into charging Mercedes," Sam said to Kitty. "It must've come up on the fire escape."
He headed to the opened kitchen window to check it out.
"Do you know who it belongs to?"
"No. I've never seen it before."
"I'll get it and take it outside..." Sam said, but broke off when he turned back around and found Mercedes holding the cat.
"It's a she," she said, hugging the poor thing. "And she's so thin and gangly, that I think she's just a teenager."
Kitty shook her head.
"Don't worry. She's not your responsibility..."
"Oh, she's totally welcome to share the place with me," Mercedes said, and, still holding the cat, walked across the floor.
Her floor.
She looked out the window and took in the view.
God, the view. She couldn't wait to get out there, to listen to tidbits of conversation as people walked by, and letting it all stoke the flames of her imagination as she wrote.
It was such an ache, that she nuzzled the cat to hide the fact that, her eyes were burning with relief.
She really had done the right thing by coming here.
"So what do you think?" Kitty asked.
"Are you kidding? I love it. I'll take it."
Mercedes took a peek in the bathroom.
Catching a glimpse of herself and the black cat in the mirror, she smiled.
The cat stared at her, not unfriendly, but not exactly ready to be besties either.
"It's okay," she told it. "I'll grow on you."
She moved to leave the bathroom, but stopped when she heard Kitty talking.
"She didn't even ask how much."
"So?" Sam asked.
"So, you don't think that's...weird?"
Mercedes and the cat walked into the room and looked directly at Kitty.
"How much?"
And Kitty had the good grace to grimace.
"Okay, maybe I'm a little overprotective," she said.
"I get it," Mercedes said. "I'm the same. So really...how much? And do you want me to fill out an application?"
"Yes," Kitty replied. She pulled a form from her purse and named the price.
Mercedes nodded.
"I'll fill this out and bring it to you with the cash for the month's rent right away."
"It's getting late. In the morning will be fine," Kitty said. "And you don't need to pay in cash. You can pay through an app or with a cheque."
Mercedes allowed that to sink in. She really wasn't ready for her world to track her, so she'd brought cash.
"Is cash a problem?" she asked.
Kitty slid Sam a look, sighed, and shook her head.
"No problem."
Stay safe!