Thank you for your continued interest. I appreciate it.
I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Chasing Christmas Eve.
For several nights, Mercedes slept better than she had, in, well, forever actually.
In the deep, quiet hours between midnight and daybreak, Sam always came to her after he was done working, sliding into her bed, pulling her into his strong, warm arms.
And that's when all her problems faded away, replaced by an erotic, sensual hunger and desire for him, such as she'd never known.
She always woke up alone, with a smile on her face. She had no idea why he never stayed.
Maybe actually sleeping with her, was one step too intimate for him.
Maybe she snored.
Maybe it was just sex.
Whatever it was, she told herself she didn't care, because he was still the best, most exciting thing that had ever happened to her.
One morning, almost two weeks into her stay, she sat all bundled up on one of the benches in front of the fountain and wrote.
And wrote.
She was painfully aware that the book she was writing, wasn't the next book in her Fever Pitched series.
It was something entirely different.
But she loved it.
She also knew, that Johnathan would have a fit.
On top of wanting her out there in public, supporting the movie in a very visible way, he also wanted her to do what her publisher wished and expand her series.
The problem was, she didn't want any of that.
She'd closed up the series in her head and her brain just wouldn't go there. So she let her writing take her wherever it wanted to go, and she was completely lost in the world, when someone plopped down beside her.
"Longest day ever," Karen said and slumped on the bench, tilting her head against the wrought-iron to stare up at the sky. "Today alone, I messed up a table I'd been working on for four months, said no to a date with a hot customer, and ate my boss's stash of candy bars. I think I'm going to hell."
"Why did you say no to the hot customer?" Mercedes asked.
"Because he's married."
"Then you're not going to hell."
"But the candy bars..."
"Hey, you did your boss a favor, and saved him from eating unhealthy."
"The top button on my jeans won't close," Karen groaned and closed her eyes. "But thanks. You're sweet. Got anything for me on the table I messed up?"
"Nothing other than it sucks big-time."
"Yeah." Karen opened her eyes and sat up. "All this crappiness has got me starving. I need sustenance."
"Did I hear someone mention food?" a twenty-something woman in a white lab coat asked, stopping at their bench.
"This is Holly," Karen told Mercedes. "She's an optometrist on the second floor. She's the one responsible for Sam's hot geeky glasses, and also for being the voice of reason in our group."
She turned to Holly.
"We're going for food. Coming?"
"Can't. I've got patients waiting. Have some wings for me, would ya?"
"Will do."
At that, Karen stood and pulled Mercedes off the bench, tugging her towards the pub, as she said,
"Chicken wings. Life won't be complete, until I inhale a platter of Fergus' chicken wings."
The pub was packed and Fergus was pulling out his hair.
"I'm down a waitress," he called to them. "I'll get to you soon as I can."
Mercedes watched him and his brother struggle to keep up with the crowd by themselves, then stood up.
"What are you doing?" Karen asked.
"I can't watch."
"I can," Karen replied, as she took in Fergus' brother Shamus, bending to pick up a pallet of clean glasses, the muscles of his shoulders and back bunching beneath his T-shirt, not to mention his jeans going taut over a first-class ass.
Mercedes waved Fergus down, and he came over, looking distracted.
"Let me help you," she said. She slid behind the bar and pulled on an apron. "I've waitressed before."
Gratitude and worry warred on his face.
"Are you sure..."
"Yep. Now go cook...whatever it is you're cooking."
And with that, she hit the tables.
Delivering the drinks turned out to be easy for Mercedes. It was remembering to check if the food orders were ready that was a problem.
Mostly this was because, she found herself busy eavesdropping on conversations, fascinated by the slices of life she heard.
"...and so, he admitted he had an extra testicle..."
"...Apparently, doing the boss' boss is the only way to the top..."
"...Remember that time we took out the wrong colon?"
She kept stopping to write down notes for herself so she wouldn't forget anything. Problem was, she was using her order pad and stuffing the notes into her pockets and getting them mixed up with actual orders.
"Hey," Fergus called, when she dropped off two new orders in the kitchen. "What's this?"
"Um...two orders of sweet potato fries?" she asked.
"No, it says 'extra testicle.' " He looked up at her, brows raised.
Horrified, Mercedes snatched back the note and stuffed it into her pocket, while pulling out her other notes to try to find the missing order.
A cascade of slips fell from her pocket.
"Hairy goats!" she exclaimed.
Fergus stared at her.
The entire kitchen staff stared at her.
And then they all burst out laughing.
"Tell me the truth," Fergus said, grinning. "You've never been a waitress a day in your life, have you?"
"Hey, I was so a waitress!" She sighed. "For a while. Before I got fired..."
She turned to get back out there and came face-to-face with Kitty.
Who stood there looking killer, in an ice blue dress that outlined every subtle curve of her body.
Seconds later, Sam came in behind her and flashed a grin at Mercedes.
"Waitressing?" he asked.
"Helping out Shamus and Fergus." She grimaced. "And not doing a really great job of it."
"Are you kidding?" Shamus asked. "You've been more entertaining than anything we've seen all season. You're great," he said, giving her a one-armed hug, before moving out to the bar.
"Hey," Fergus called out from behind the grill, waving another order. "Who's doing the boss' boss? Is that code for something actually on our menu?"
Mercedes grimaced again, snatched the paper back, and headed to the tables.
She served Sam, Kitty and Karen, and afterwards, when she'd cleared their dishes, Sam stood up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist.
He tugged her in and gave her a goodbye kiss so hot, that she nearly self-combusted on the spot.
And while she was trying to remember her name, he walked off, but not before leaving her a tip.
A huge tip.
This gave her a flash of something she hadn't seen coming...guilt.
He'd left her so much cash, because he thought she needed the money. Which reminded her, that while they'd grown closer...very close...over the past two weeks, she'd left out a big piece of herself, by not telling him who she was.
But the truth was, she hadn't intended to tell him.
This had started out as a diversion, on both their parts, so it hadn't been necessary.
But it'd become more for her, much more, and suddenly, she wanted him to know.
"Sam?"
He turned and met her gaze.
"Dinner tonight?" she asked.
"Sure," he said. "I'll come get you at seven."
"No, I'll come get you," she said. "It's my turn to cook."
His mouth curved and the smile was in his voice as well.
"I'll be ready."
When Mercedes was done pitching in, Fergus and Shamus handed her an envelope of cash.
"Wow!" she said, counting through it. "Can I come work here every day?"
"Hell yeah!" Shamus said.
"I'm sorry but hell no!" Fergus said. "You're great to look at and my customers loved you, but please, God, don't come back to work tomorrow."
Stay safe friends!