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Standard disclaimer.

Nothing chocolate, nothing gained.

Sam sat up on the mechanic's creeper and took in the sight of Mercedes standing there. She was holding a plate of cookies, which he hoped to God were for him.

He assumed she'd discovered the phone fiasco by now, but other than that, he wasn't sure what sort of mood to expect from her.

The last time he'd seen her, she'd been face down on his bed, boneless and sated right into a coma of bliss.

And he'd stroked a strand of damp hair from her face, making her smile in her sleep.

His heart had constricted at the sight, and his sole thought was,

'Oh God! I am in trouble.'

He'd been torn by the urge to tug her close, but then, claustrophobia had reached up and grabbed him by the throat. And just as he'd chosen to retreat, she'd awakened and gotten dressed to go.

That must have been when she'd grabbed the wrong phone, although, he hadn't realized it then.

He'd followed her home, to make sure she got there safely, then driven back to his place and expected to crash.

Instead he'd missed her.

Clearly, he was losing it.

Sam had no idea what Mercedes was thinking, but he hadn't expected to see her smile at the sight of him.

Yet, the smile was filled with relief, he realized...and surprise that he was still here in town.

'Yeah, join the club,' he thought to himself, because, he too, was very surprised.

Mercedes was in pale purple scrubs and white Nikes. She had two pens sticking out of her hip pocket, one red, one black. And there were correlating ink marks on her scrubs.

She followed Sam's gaze and rubbed at the stains.

"I'm a mess. Don't ask."

"Not a mess," he said. "Are those cookies?"

"Yes. And I had to fight the staff to keep them for you."

"Girl-on-girl fight?" he asked hopefully. "Did you get it on video?"

"You are such a guy."

She came closer and crouched at his side, holding a cookie out for him. He took a big bite and moaned in deep appreciation.

"Did you give the HSC ten thousand dollars?"

'Ah, there it was,' he thought, swallowing. He was hoping she wouldn't find out, but he supposed that was unrealistic, in a town like Lucky Harbor.

Taking his time, he ate cookie number two, then reached for a third.

But she held the plate out of his reach.

"Did you?" she asked.

He eyed her for a long moment, then asked,

"Which answer will get me the rest of the cookies?"

"Oh, Sam," she breathed, looking worried, as she lowered the plate. Worried for him, he realized.

"Why?" she asked. "You already gave."

"The HSC needed it."

"But it's so much money."

"If you're asking if I can afford it, I can."

She just stared at him, so he shrugged.

"The job pays well." He paused. "Really well."

Mercedes let out a breath.

She was already hunkered at his side, so it took little effort to lean over and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," she whispered, and went to kiss the other cheek, but he turned his head and caught her mouth with his.

They were both gratifyingly out of breath by the time he pulled back.

"You're welcome," Sam said, surprised, when she rose and sat on the stool at his work bench.

"Don't let me keep you from what you were doing," she said. "I'll watch."

He arched a brow, feeling amused for the first time all day.

"You want me to get back under the car?"

"I just don't want you to lose any time because of me."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely."

Humoring the both of them, Sam lay back down onto the mechanic's creeper and lifted his hands above his head, to the edge of the car.

Mercedes nibbled on her lower lip.

Watching Sam work turned her on. And he picked up on it.

The knowledge shouldn't have surprised him, though...she turned him on just breathing.

Nonetheless, he chuckled softly and she lowered her head, completely caught out.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"Your nipples are hard."

She made a sound in the back of her throat and covered her breasts, making him laugh.

"It's your jeans," she said. "They're faded at your, um." She waggled a finger in the direction of his crotch. "Stress spots. And your T-shirt, it's tight on your biceps and shoulders. And when you're flat on your back under the car, you look like you know what you're doing."

"That's because I do."

"It's the whole package," she agreed miserably.

Sam grinned.

"If it helps, my package likes your package. A whole hell of a lot."

"Work!" Mercedes demanded, closing her eyes and clenching her thighs, her mind going straight to the gutter.

Obliging, Sam rolled back beneath the car.

He heard Mercedes get to her feet and walk close, peering into the opened hood above him.

"So, how much wrenching do you do at your work?" she asked.

She was as see-through as glass. He knew that she'd put him back beneath the car, because, she'd gotten him to talk beneath a car before.

But she was so goddamned cute, trying to out-think him, that he gave her what she wanted.

Which in hindsight, made her a hell of lot more dangerous than he'd thought.

"I hot-wired a tank once," he said. "With my team. We stole it to disable rebel insurgents."

Mercedes squatted at his side.

"You've led a very different life than mine," she stated, matter-of-factly.

Her hand settled on his bad thigh. He'd only recently gotten feeling back in it, but he was having no trouble feeling anything now.

It felt like her fingers had a direct line to his groin, and things stirred to life.

"Our phones got switched," she said.

There was a new quality to her voice now, one that had him setting down his wrench and pulling himself back out from beneath the car.

She was still crouched low, and from his vantage point flat on his back, he looked up into her face.

As usual, she could hide nothing from him, and for once, he wished he couldn't see her every thought.

They exchanged phones, but Mercedes' expression didn't change.

"Problem?" Sam asked.

"A woman called. Francine? She wants you to call her."

"She always wants me to call her."

Mercedes nodded, looked down at the ground and then back into his eyes.

"Are you dating her?"

"I'm not much of a dater," he replied.

"You know what I mean."

Yeah, he did. And he didn't want to go there.

"I know..." she said quickly. "...we agreed...that this thing between you and I...was casual."

Suddenly, Sam didn't like where this was going.

"A fling," she went on. "Right? Not a relationship." She rose and turned away from him. "But, I was thinking...that maybe...that last part isn't true. I mean, we never actually said there wasn't a relationship."

"I'll say it, then," he said. "It's not a relationship."

She went still, turning back to stare at him, with those eyes, he'd never once been able to resist.

"Why is that?" she asked. "Why can't there be an us, if there's a you and a someone else?"

Sam looked into her expressive face and felt a stab of pain right in the gut.

He'd survived SEAL training.

He'd lived through a plane crash. And he'd kept on breathing, when the rest of his team...his friends, his brothers...hadn't been able to do the same.

But he didn't know how to do this.

"There are some things I can't tell you," Sam said slowly. "Things, that even if I wanted to, I couldn't."

"So the reason we can't be a 'we' is classified?" Mercedes asked in disbelief. "Really, Sam?"

'Well, hell! Yeah, that was pretty fucking lame,' he thought, but he'd chalk it up to the panic, now residing in his hollow gut.

Whatever he did here, whatever he came up with, he needed her to want to keep her distance.

Except, Mercedes Jones was incapable of distance, when her heart was involved. It was both painfully attractive and terrifying at the same time.

"Don't fall for me, Mercedes. That wouldn't be good for either of us. We're too different. You said so yourself."

Mercedes sucked in a breath like he'd slapped her.

"And what, you and Francine are alike? Compatible?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

With hands on hips, she narrowed her eyes and asked,

"If you're sleeping with her, then why wouldn't she just come over and talk to you? Why is she yelling about you not returning her phone calls?"

"Francine doesn't yell."

"Strongly suggested then," Mercedes said, with mock politeness. She paused. "You're not sleeping with her."

'Gig's up.'

"I'm not sleeping with her. And as for the why she's pissed, there are a variety of reasons. I haven't seen her in six months, for one."

Mercedes stared at him, then turned away again.

And Sam rose to his feet and walked around her to see her face.

"Get the rest out," Sam said. "Let's finish this."

"You aren't familiar with the Jones' pattern, of holding onto a good mad, I see."

"Holding onto your mad only tortures you," he pointed out. "If you're mad at me, let me have it."

"Are you always so logical?" With a sigh, Mercedes shook her head. "Never mind. Don't answer that."

She put a finger to her eye.

"Damn twitch," she muttered to herself, then looked at Sam, chin up.

"I snooped in your phone."

"I would expect nothing less, from Walking-On-The-Wild-Side Mercedes."

"I thought about not telling you. But stealth isn't one of my special talents."

"You have other special talents," he said, and made her giggled.

"Dammit!" she said. "I don't want to laugh with you right now."

Lifting a hand, Sam wrapped it around the nape of her neck and drew her in.

"You need some more time to be mad at me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Let me know when you're about done."

He knew he had no right to touch her, or crave her like air, but he did both. And when he put his mouth on hers, he recognized the taste of her, like she'd been made for just him.

Which made him far more screwed, than he'd even imagined.

But suddenly, Mercedes was pulling free, shaking her head.

"Sam...I can't."

"You can't kiss and be mad at me at the same time?"

"Oh, I can do that. What I can't do is this. I can't do this and not keep it real."

"It's real."

"Yes, but real for you, means an erection. For me, it means..."

She rubbed her chest as if it hurt and closed her eyes.

"Never mind." She took a step back and then another. "I'm sorry, this really is my fault. I shouldn't have..."

"Mercedes..."

"No, it's okay. Really. But I'm going now."

Sam watched her get into her car and drive off, and for some reason, he felt empty on the inside.

'Yeah,' he thought, 'Definitely time to go back to work. Passed time.'

Mercedes parked behind her brother's truck in her mother's driveway.

Dinner with the Jones'.

It'd been a full day, since she'd left Sam standing in his garage, hot and dirty and looking a little baffled, like maybe, he'd lost his copy of the rule book for their little game.

But even though she'd started the game in the first place, she no longer wanted to play.

Because, somewhere along the way, her heart had flipped on her.

She could pretend to be a bad girl all she wanted. It was only an illusion. The truth was, she needed more than just sex. And that really pissed her off about herself.

And what pissed her off even more, was how much she already missed him.

Nadine Jones was in the kitchen, pulling a roasted chicken out of the oven.

It looked perfect.

Mercedes wouldn't even know where to begin, to make food that looked like that. She sniffed appreciatively.

"Did you bring the dessert?" her mother asked. "That cake you brought to Jace's birthday party was amazing. I had no idea you were so talented. Tell me you made another of those."

Mercedes held out a tray of cupcakes, she'd gotten this morning.

Jessica, the one who'd sold them to her, had promised, they were absolutely to die for. And she knew this to be true, because, she'd already inhaled two of them.

"A woman who can bake like this..." her mom said, ",,,should have kids. I wouldn't mind some grandchildren."

"Mom."

"Just saying."

"Well, just stop saying."

Just then, Jace walked in and rumpled Mercedes' hair.

"Hey, think you can convince that cute new LN to go out with me?" he asked.

"No, she's too good for you. And how do you know her?"

"I work with her brother at the welding shop. She brought him lunch."

"Stay away from her," Mercedes said.

Their mother began shooing everyone to the table.

"Jace, put your phone away. Oh, Merce, I almost forgot. Your sister wanted me to ask, if you'd take Marley's shift this weekend, so the two of them can have a girl's night out."

Mercedes grabbed two rolls.

"Can't."

Her mother took one roll back.

"You'll hate yourself in the morning. And why can't you take the shift?"

"I'm working at the HSC this weekend."

"Both days?"

"No, but I need a day off."

Mrs. Jones blinked.

"You never say no. You're always so good about helping everyone."

'Good.' Oh how she hated that adjective applied to her.

Jace grinned and took two rolls, without comment from their mother.

'Skinny rat-fink bastard,' Mercedes thought.

"I don't think Mercedes likes being called good, mom."

"Of course she does. Why wouldn't she?"

'Right. Why wouldn't she?'

Mercedes escaped as soon as dinner was over.

Her family was…well, her family. She loved them, but they had no idea, how much their opinion of her wore her down...that she yearned for so much more. And that she wanted to be seen.

Seen for herself.

Sam saw her for herself.

Too bad he didn't see her, as someone he wanted in his life.

She was halfway home, when her phone rang. So she pulled over and answered Santana's call.

"You see Facebook lately?"

Mercedes' heart sank.

"What now?"

"Someone caught a picture of you and Sam, in what looks like the hospital parking lot. He was...under your hood."

'Oh boy.'

"Tell me you really mean that. And not as some sort of euphemism."

"The picture is hot, Chica. No one can deny, that you two don't look good together."

"We're not together. And what the hell are we doing in the picture?"

"Kissing. And he's got a hand on your ass. So, they've relabeled him from Mysterious Cute Guy to Good-With-His-Hands Guy."

"Oh, God!"

"Chica?"

"Yeah?"

"I think you're ready to teach your own Bad Girl Lessons now."

Mercedes sighed and thunked her head on the steering wheel.

"Oh, and chocoholics unite tomorrow. I'm getting a chocolate cake. It's got yours, Quinn's, and my name on it. You've got a story to tell."

"So do you. I want to hear more about this thing with Mark..."

"There's no 'thing' with me and him."

"San..."

"Sorry, bad connection. Must be going through a tunnel."

"You're at the diner!"

"Oh, well then, it must be something I don't want to discuss." And she disconnected.

Mercedes shook her head and got back on the road, hitting the gas hard.

She wanted to see that Facebook pic, like now.

Two blocks from home, red and blue lights flashed in her rear-view mirror.

'Shit!'

She pulled over, rolled down her window, and glared at Sheriff Sean Tucker, as he ambled up to the side of her car.

She and him had gone to high school together, though he'd been a couple of years ahead of her. And she'd done his English papers, while he'd handled her math and science.

Later, she'd patched him up several times, when he and his group of buddies would get plastered, and do stupid stuff, that landed him on the injured list.

But then, he settled down and became a lawman of all things. And now, he's firmly entrenched on the right side of the law.

There'd been a time, when having the sexy sheriff pull her over, might have made her day. But that time wasn't now.

"What?" she demanded a little crankily. "You don't have a bad guy to catch? You have to pull over people, who are just trying to get home?"

"Give me a break, Merce. You were doing fifty-five in a thirty-five zone. I blared my siren at you twice, and you never even noticed. What the hell's up with you?"

'Crap!' She sagged in her seat.

"Nothing."

The sheriff shook his head and leaned against her car, apparently perfectly happy, to take a break on her time.

Mercedes sighed.

"Long day?" she asked sympathetically.

"Yeah." He slid her a look. "But clearly not as long as yours."

"I'm fine."

"Is that right?" He pulled out his iPhone and thumbed his way to a page, then turned it to her.

Facebook.

A picture had indeed been posted, just as Santana had said. It was small and grainy but it was her...in Sam's arms.

With his hand on her ass.

She stared at herself.

She had a dazed, dreamy smile on her face.

Not Sam.

His expression was possessive, as he stared down at her hungrily, and she felt herself getting aroused all over again, in spite of herself.

This was quickly followed, by a surge of her supposedly rare temper.

"Are you kidding me?"

The officer slipped the phone back into his pocket.

"That's an invasion of privacy!" she said. "Arrest someone!"

"You were in a public place."

"I didn't know someone was taking pictures!"

"Obviously," he drawled, still leaning back against her car, as if he had all day.

"I'm going to kick someone's ass."

His brow shot up at that.

"You don't kick ass, Mercy. You save people's asses."

"I'm over it! Give me my damn speeding ticket and get out of my way, before I run your foot over."

Officer Tucker flashed a genuine grin now.

"Are you threatening an officer?"

"My ticket, Sean."

"I'm not going to give you a ticket, Mercedes."

"You're not?"

"Hell, no! If I gave you a ticket, I'd get skinned alive, by...well, everyone."

This was thankfully true.

"That's never bothered you before."

If she wasn't so mad, she might have found humor in this.

"It's Carla isn't it. Having a girlfriend has softened you up."

He grimaced.

"I'm tempted to ticket you, just for saying that."

Then, she found a smile after all.

And he returned it, leaned in her window, and tugged on a strand of her hair.

"Want some advice?" the officer asked.

"I want to run your foot over."

"You're not going to run me over, because, then, you'd have to give me first aid and you're not in the mood."

He stepped back, proving he wasn't just all good looks.

"Slow down, Mercedes," he warned her and tugged on her hair again. "Everywhere."

"What does that mean?"

"It means, that I don't want to see you hurt."

Well, it was too damn late for that, wasn't it. She was already hurt, thank you very much.

She blew out a breath and eased out into traffic.

Mercedes was careful not to speed again, even with her phone going off every two seconds.

She ignored all calls, parked in her driveway, watered Mrs. Taylor's flowers, watered her grandma's flowers, and fed Sweet Pea.

Some habits were hard to break.

Then, she bent down to scratch the cat behind the ears and got bit for her efforts.

Yeah, some habits were definitely hard to break.

Mercedes walked straight through the house and out the back door, heading for her yard.

In the backyard, she headed to the sole lounge chair. Plopping down, she hit speaker on her phone and finally accessed the messages, squinting as she did, as if that would help not hear them.

"Mercedes," Shelby said in her Displeased Voice. "Call me."

'No thank you.'

Clearly her boss had seen the picture. And just as clearly, she assumed that she had ignored her warning.

She supposed, she should call in and let Shelby know, that the picture had been taken before their 'talk.' Or that she was no longer seeing Sam.

But tired of being the peacemaker, she hit delete.

"Wow, Merce!" came the next message, from her sister Tamara. "You're one serious bad-ass lately. If you find yourself heading to Vegas, make sure you buy the wedding package without the photos. You don't need any pics...this one is perfect."

Delete.

Third message.

"Mercedes, this is Dana. From the grocery store? Yeah, listen, I play Bunko with a group every Wednesday night, and this week, we had a drawing for who could go for Cute Guy and I won. So you're going to need to back off. He's mine."

Delete.

'He's all yours, Dana.'

Sweet Pea bumped her head into Mercedes' shin. This wasn't a show of love, but a demand for more food.

"You have no idea how good you have it, cat," she said with a sigh. "All you have to do is sleep, for what, eighteen hours a day? No pressure, no expectations. No Mysterious Cute Guys messing with your head, giving you mixed signals."

Except, the mixed signals had been all hers.

He'd been honest with her from the get-go. Well, if not exactly honest, he'd at least been up front.

Don't fall for me, Mercedes. That wouldn't be good for either of us.

'Right,' she thought. She'd just stand firm and not fall.

Except...she already had.

I hope this was okay. Distractions, distractions, distractions...in the form of two boys, bickering, scuffling...and driving me crazy. But I love them!

Stay safe!