"Stephanie, what have you done?" I ask when the elevator doors close, hiding me from the view of the men working on the control room floor. I remove the little black book and pen from my purse and write nonsense before adding Cal's name to the ever-growing list of excellent kissers. His lips are softer than I expected. I couldn't resist sucking his tongue into my mouth when it darted out to tease the seam of my lips. Cal groaned, or maybe it was me, when I grabbed his firm ass to pull him against me. That man is packing some serious heat. Any woman would be satisfied to feel that weapon between their legs.
I thump my head against the elevator wall and tuck the book back into my purse. Amazingly, the men haven't discovered my little notebook. Even if they do find it, they would never decipher my code. It's one Mary Lou and I created when we were children. The only way the men can read the list is to ask Mary Lou to decode it. I know my best friend will lie about whatever I wrote to protect me.
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. This notebook I insist on carrying has my list of potential boyfriends, primarily based on their ability to incite arousal from a sensual kiss. My brain feels like it's short-circuiting from all the fabulous kisses from the sexy men. What would my mom say?
Ugh! Why am I thinking about my mother? I shake thoughts of her from my mind before I start hyperventilating. We haven't talked since last Easter when she tricked me into wearing the pale blue gown for an arranged wedding ceremony to Joseph Morelli. I broke up with him four months earlier after catching him in bed with Terry Gilman. Mom tried to convince me they were sharing the bed in a platonic manner, as I often shared a bed with Ranger. I never had sex or shared a bed with Ranger while I was in the on-again part of my relationship with Joe. The self-proclaimed Italian Stallion was in the throes of passion as he screwed Terry from behind. I know what I saw. It took several months to scrub that image from my mind.
The elevator doors open, and I can finally leave Rangeman. I'm relieved when I climb into my car without anyone stopping me. I lock my doors before starting the car and backing out. The gate opens when I press the button on my fob. I sigh as Rangeman disappears in my rearview mirror.
During the past year, each one of the men on my list gave me a fabulous kiss. Whenever I felt a spark or a semblance of a connection, I added them to my list. I suppose kissing under the mistletoe shouldn't count, but I would be lying if I claimed not to have felt something when each of them pressed their warm, pliable lips against mine. My Merry Men respected my quasi-relationship with Ranger and waited until he left the building before capturing me under the mistletoe to taste my lips.
Should I call Ranger? Lester? Diesel? Tank? I have so many choices and not enough time to decide. Why me? Is finding a soulmate by Valentine's Day that difficult? Why is it challenging to see what's inside my heart?
Perhaps the words I constantly heard from my mother, "You're a disappointment. Why can't you behave like a proper Burg girl? Quit your job and marry Joe," make me insecure about giving my heart to a man. My heart says Ranger is the man for me, but I can't get my head to agree. Ranger loves me, but only enough to wear a condom during a sexual encounter. He can't offer a commitment.
Okay, I know who to eliminate from the list. I opened my notebook and scratched off Ranger's name. It breaks my heart, but I know we can't be together. There are still quite a few names left. I'll have to think about the remaining men.
I let muscle memory guide me, and I find myself behind the apartment building on the corner of St James and Dunworth. It's on the eastern boundary of Trenton. I gaze at the dark red brick cube containing eighteen apartments disbursed among the three floors. Apartment 215 used to be mine. I look at the light in the second-floor apartment with the black metal fire escape overlooking the parking lot. The curtain opens before the owner checks the lock and pulls the shades.
Too many bad things happened to me in that apartment. I'm startled by a knock on my window. Hector's grinning at me. I smile and roll the window open. "You don't live here," Hector reminds me.
"I know, Hector. I got distracted while driving home," I confess. He chuckles and motions for me to unlock the passenger door. "Are you coming home with me?"
"Yes." I raise my brows at his answer. "Stephanie, you know I'm attracted to men."
"You don't need to remind me," I reply.
"I could change for you," Hector offers. I shake my head. Hector should find someone who shares his sexual orientation. I hope he's still with Eduardo.
"Wouldn't Eduardo get upset if you suddenly bat for the other team?" I give him a side-eye glare. He chuckles and confesses it was an empty offer.
"My husband will understand," Hector jokes. "He only wants whatever will make me happy."
"I didn't realize you married him. He's a lucky man. You're a great kisser," I confess. "Did you tell him about our kiss under the mistletoe when you accompanied me for dinner? I'm unsure who threw the bigger tantrum, Joe or my mom."
Hector's laughter fills the car. He's my best friend and confidant. That man used to be Ranger. He backed off once Morelli and I called it quits for good. Well, I was the one to call it quits with Joe, who still hovers, hoping I'll take him back.
Joseph Morelli is why I moved from my apartment to a building Rangeman secures. He is also the reason Rex The First and Rex The Second died. Joe forgot to feed Rex The First when I went to Florida to train Rangeman Miami BEA staff on the newest program. He held Rex The Second hostage as he attempted to get me back. The poor creature escaped from the cage and got smothered by Morelli's dog Bob when he tried to play with my hamster.
Rex The Third sits in an elaborate aquarium with different levels, tubes and swings for him to play. My Merry Men built Rex's cage. It's one of the many reasons I love them.
I reached my building and parked in the spot assigned to me. It's a better system than my old place. Hector follows me inside and checks my apartment before asking his husband to give him a ride home.
"Hector, the place is secured by Rangeman. The guys would have caught anyone from breaking in," I say when he smiles.
"Following protocol. The men can pick the locks and bypass your security system."
Hector has a point. I hugged my friend and kissed his cheek. He squeezes, then releases me. I giggle when he orders me to lock the door and arm the alarm.
I'm looking inside my refrigerator for something enticing to eat when someone calls from the lobby. I connect the call and hear Dad. "Let me up, Pumpkin. I have pizza."
"Sure," I reply and buzz him upstairs. I count to twenty and open the door. Dad smiles and brushes past me. "Not that I'm complaining about free food, but why are you here?"
"To offer you some sage advice," he answers. Dad walks to the kitchen table and sets the pizza and beer in the centre. I'm watching in amusement as he grabs plates, napkins and cutlery from the cabinets. Why do we need forks? I glance at the table and see a bag I never noticed he had carried inside. "I brought a garden salad with a light vinaigrette."
"Thanks, Dad. You know Rangeman has me on a strict diet."
"You still have time to accept my offer," Dad reminds me. I shake my head. Working for Rangeman was strict enough for my liking. I love my dad, but that doesn't mean I want to work as Joe Juniak's personal assistant. Running his office and fielding calls from his constituents isn't appealing. Someone else should manage the chaos of his campaign for the pending election.
"I'll pass. Thank Uncle Joe for keeping me in mind," I reply.
"What's bothering you?"
I sit at the table and dig into the food. After consuming a greasy yet satisfying slice of pizza, I explain, "The guys want me to choose a date for the Valentine's Day party at Rangeman. I'm afraid anyone I choose will offend the others."
"It's just a party, Pumpkin. You're overthinking it," Dad wisely says. He doesn't understand the dilemma.
"Daddy, it isn't just a party," I sigh. Taking a few deep breaths to calm my nerves, I pick up my fork and stab it into the salad. "Whoever I choose wants to date me."
"Are you ready for that?"
Yes? No? I shrugged and took a bite of the salad. Dad smiles as I hum my approval of the flavours. "I don't know. Ranger still comforts me whenever something happens in the field. Although it isn't his job to be at the scene, Morelli shows up and screams about my ineptitude or carelessness. Dad, Joe and I broke up before Easter. I don't understand why he keeps hanging around. Ranger confuses me."
"A real man can't stand seeing his woman hurt. He's careful with his decisions and actions, so he never has to be responsible for her pain," Dad says, quoting some pathetic romantic mumbo jumbo that I feel doesn't apply to the men in my life.
"Dad, I was never Joe's woman. Not Ranger's either," I argue.
"Ranger loves you. He's always around to protect you."
"Sure, Dad. I know Ranger loves me in his own way. He's careful with his decisions and actions, but he's hurt me worse than Mom and Joe with their abusive words. Ranger is responsible for my current pain. According to that saying, he isn't a real man. I deserve better than being a friend with benefits. I can't help that I still love him."
Dad and I concentrate on eating before the conversation ruins our appetites. He helps me clean the dishes and promises to dispose of the trash.
"What did Manoso do?" Dad asks.
"He often says there's no price for what he gives me. Yet whenever I accept a car or a job equivalent to a pity fuck, we have a night of passion. It unsettles me. It makes me feel like a glorified prostitute," I confess. Dad inhales a sharp breath. I didn't mean to give him so many details about my intimate moments with Ranger.
"Cross him off your list," Dad growls before leaving. I'm left standing in my doorway, looking stunned. My little black book is on Dad's abandoned chair, opened to the page containing Ranger's name, where I had added it back to the list. Oh my God! Dad cracked the code.
A few hours before the Valentine's Day party, I noticed most of the names in my little black book crossed out. Only two names remain. One is my hamster, Rex. I know… it's silly to have my pet in the book of boyfriends.
Someone enters my apartment. It's obviously one of the Merry Men since he disarmed the alarm. I know it isn't Ranger because of the lack of tingling in my neck.
I tap my fingernail on the side of Rex's aquarium. He bolts from his hiding space to see who interrupted his slumber. Smiling, I say, "I knew from that first moment we met. It was more than love at first sight but familiarity. Like I'd always known you - my heart greeted yours - "Oh, hello, it's you. It was always going to be you."
"Does that mean you picked me?" my Merry Man asks.
"I was talking to Rex," I deadpan. "Rex The First and Rex The Second were great hamsters. But Rex The Third never judges and is always around to listen to me. I have a deeper connection with him than his predecessors." He gasps in shock and clutches his chest.
"I'm hurt."
"I eliminated you from my list," I say, adding to the pain.
"Who was left?" he asks, pulling me into his arms.
"Cal."
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my lips. "It should have been me," he whispers against my mouth before retaking control. I feel the tingles move through my lips to the nether regions. He deepens the kiss and takes advantage when I open my mouth. Our fight for domination is slightly disrupted when I wrap my legs around his waist. "I'm here to escort you to the party," he announces as I rock against his erection.
"Not necessary," I reply. "We can party without the others." He carries me to the bedroom and sets me on the bed. I grab my phone to send Hector a text. He's working the monitor shift since his husband has to work at the restaurant. I smile when Hector promises to keep the others from interrupting my Valentine's Day date.
We fall asleep after making love. I wake up the following day as my man kisses my face and brushes the loose hairs aside to nuzzle my neck. "Why are you smiling?" he asks with amusement, colouring his words.
"Because you're still here. Ranger didn't ship you off to some Stan."
"Stephanie, I'm not going anywhere. We kind of did something last night," he sheepishly says.
"What did we do? I don't remember," I reply, giggling. I know exactly what we did. Uncle Joe was accommodating, and I'm still surprised he could pull it off without anyone finding out.
My man raises my left hand and kisses the rings adorning my finger. "You remember, you teasing minx," he growls. "Thank you for saying yes." He rolls me onto my back and presses into me.
Twenty minutes later, I'm lying in his arms, feeling sated when he asks, "Why did you cross me off the list?"
"Because it would break my heart if you said no," I answer honestly.
"I think it's because you were afraid of Ranger's reaction," he argues. His tone suggests he's teasing me. He always made me feel better about myself and gave me self-esteem boosts. It's his best trait. He's as kind and generous as I am. The best trait of all? He shares details of his past and his family.
"That and how your family would react," I confess. "We're going to have a lot of awkward family gatherings in our future." I rest my chin on his chest to look into his green eyes.
He runs his fingers through my hair, removing the knots caused by sleeping and having sex. "Ranger will have to deal. I don't want to talk about him in our bed. You are so beautiful."
"Nice deflection," I laugh. "I was just thinking."
"I thought I saw smoke," he teases. I slap his chest. His body vibrates beneath mine, sending a fresh wave of arousal through me. I hook my leg across his thighs before covering his body with mine as I settle my core on his pelvis. He doesn't take long to get on board with my plan. "What were you thinking?" he groans as he grows thick with arousal. I giggle and moan as it sends a wave of pleasure through me. He's the only Merry Man who enjoys talking as much as I do.
"About you sharing conquest stories with the men. I know most of them you fabricated. You're not the man-whore people accuse you of being," I reply. I raise myself to sink onto him. My man hasn't been with another woman since we met at the redecorating job. "What we do in our bed behind closed doors is not up for discussion." His fingers pluck at my nipples, drawing a deep moan for me.
"That's it, Stephanie," he moans as I clench around him. "This is between us."
"Ahhh…," I moan as he lifts his hips to thrust deeper inside me. We tumble over the edge together. I rest my head on his sweaty chest and tell him about having dinner with my dad a few nights ago.
"What does that mean for me?" he asks.
"It means you are a real man, Lester Santos," I reply.
"And I'm all yours," Lester adds. You heard it right, folks. Lester Santos, my best friend, is my husband.