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I rode the elevator to the control room and had the full attention of everyone there as I crossed to my desk.
“I got tired of turkey so I went out for lunch,” I told them.
I retrieved the key fob I'd left on my desk, got back into the elevator, and rode to Ranger's floor. I knocked on his door and didn't get an answer, so I let myself in. I took my shoes off in the hall and left them on the marble floor. I didn't want to trash Ranger's apartment, and the shoes were coated with chocolate milkshake and some smushed cheeseburger. I padded into Rangers bathroom, locked the door, and dropped the rest of my clothes.
I washed with his delicious shower gel and stood under the hot water until I was relaxed and no longer cared that just minutes before I'd had chicken noodle soup in my hair.
I wrapped myself in Rangers luxuriously thick terrycloth robe, unlocked the door, and stepped into his bedroom. Ranger was stretched out on the bed, ankles crossed, arms behind his head. His was fully clothed, and he was obviously waiting for me.
“I had a small mishap,” I said.
“That's what they tell me. What happened?”
“I was helping Lula snag Willie Martin at Fennick's and next thing I knew I was airborne. He threw me about fifteen feet, into a table full of food and people.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but my sneakers are history. They're covered with chocolate milkshake.”
Ranger crooked a finger at me. “Come here.”
“No way.”
“What about the jelly-doughnut hormones and the sex-drive hormones?”
“Getting thrown across a room seems to have a calming effect on them.”
“I could fix that,” Ranger said.
I smiled at him. “There's no doubt in my mind, but I'd rather you didn't. I have a lot of things going on in my head right now, and you could make it a lot more confusing.”
“That's promising,” Ranger said. He got off the bed and crossed the room. He grabbed me by the big shawl collar on the robe and pulled me to him. “I like when you wear my robe.”
“Because I'm cute in it?”
“No, because it's all you're wearing.”
“You don't know that for sure,” I said. “I could have clothes under this.”
“Is this another one of those things I should find out for myself?”
I was skating on thin ice here. I had the jelly-doughnut hormone problem going on, and I didn't want it to get out of control. I'd spent a night with Ranger a while ago, and I knew what happened when he was encouraged. Ranger knew how to make a woman want him. Ranger was magic.
“Let's take a look at my life,” I said to Ranger. “I keep rolling in garbage.”
“Mind-boggling,” Ranger said.
“And let's take a look at your life. You have a deep dark secret.”
“Let it go,” Ranger said.
“Are you sick?”
“No, I'm not sick. Not physically, anyway. I'm not so sure sometimes about the mental, emotional, and sexual.”
I locked myself in Ranger's dressing room and got dress
ed in the second Rangeman outfit. Short black T-shirt, black cargo pants, black socks. Ella hadn't provided underwear or shoes, so I sent my soda-and-ketchup-soaked underwear and my chocolate-shake-covered shoes off to the laundry with the first Rangeman outfit. I was feeling a little strange without underwear, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, right?
