Page 1 of Whatever You Need

“This can’t be happening,”I hissed, slamming my head down on the pillow. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to pretend that this was nothing more than a bad dream. But when my eyelids opened, the burn from the metal digging into my wrists was a sharp reminder of my stupidity.

I was normally a very level-headed person, so how the hell did I think having a one-night stand with a stranger that I met at happy hour would be a good idea? Oh, I knew why, because I followed my best friend’s advice. Something I would never do again. When I accepted her dare to be spontaneous for “just one night” this was not what I had in mind.

Ava knew I didn’t have an impulsive bone in my body. My need for calm and predictability was established when I showed up at the bus stop in third grade with my twenty-five-pack of pencils already sharpened. Now here I was handcuffed to a bedpost because I felt like I had something to prove. Not only would I be looking to replace my childhood friend, but I was also never drinking vodka again. I was sticking to wine from here on out.

“I’m so sorry,” my date Parker repeated for the tenth time, while pacing a path along the brown carpet. “The key must have fallen out of my pocket on the way back from the bar.”

“Right.” I sat up and looked across the room, not acknowledging his apology. “Do you have a paperclip or a bobby pin handy?”

“Er…” He walked over and inspected my wrists again, looking as if the lock would just magically pop open on its own. “I can’t say that I have either of those.”

“Well, have you looked around? I’m sure there must be something you can use.”

“Right.” He jumped up and scurried around the apartment. Doors flew open, and drawers were rummaged through in haste as he searched for something that would free me from his fuckup.

Jesus, this was a shitshow.

He pushed his sandy-blond hair out of his eyes, looking defeated. “Do you want me to call the cops or something?”

“What?” I shrieked. “No, I want you to find the fucking key and unlock me.”

This seemed like a good idea a few hours ago. I had just downed my second shot and ordered my third drink. Parker came over and introduced himself as a rescue pilot for the Coast Guard. He seemed fun when I was filled up on vodka. Now, it was clear that he couldn’t even rescue a poodle stranded in an above ground pool, let alone a human being.

Rescue pilot my ass.

They say you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I highly suggest reading a few chapters first before buying a copy.

“If I could help you, I would, but I can’t.” He pinched the skin between his brows. “I think our best option would be to call the police.”

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm myself down. It was so stupid of me to put myself in this position. “Fine, but can you at least cover me up before they get here?”

This was going to be mortifying, but at least I still had my bra and underwear covering up the important parts. Thank God, we didn’t go all the way. Hell, Parker barely made it off second base, thanks to his ex-girlfriend unexpectedly showing up. He chased her down the hall and tried to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, even though it was exactly what it looked like. After listening to the two of them scream and yell at each other for over an hour, I was grateful that she stopped things from going any further.

Parker ran his hands through his hair, looking every bit as embarrassed as I felt. “Sure. Let me find something.”

He moved to the dresser and then the closet, frantically searching for a solution to my problem. “The bed sheet on the floor will work,” I suggested, pointing to the crumpled mess at the bottom of the bed.

It was as if a light bulb went off in his head. “Yeah, right. Good idea,” he said, following my line of sight. “Would you like a glass of water or something?”

I licked my dry, chapped lips. “Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

He immediately returned with a tall glass of water and set it on the nightstand beside me. “Uh, I am going to need a little help with that. I can’t use my hands, remember?”

“Shit, I’m sorry, I forgot.” He quickly picked up the glass and brought it to my lips.

Once I was finished, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911. I leaned back and closed my eyes and listened to Parker explain to the dispatcher what had to be one of the dumbest calls this person would get on their shift tonight.

“Uh, hello. I’m not sure if this is an emergency or not, but I have a woman handcuffed to my bed.” His eyes widened. “Yes, she’s all right. No, she’s not here against her will.” I tried not to cringe at his overpitched voice. “Yes, I’m sure. I somehow lost the key. Yes, she’s conscious and awake. You want to speak to her. Okay, I’ll put the phone on speaker.”

Every muscle in my body tensed as I assured the dispatcher that I was fine and we only needed someone to remove the handcuffs. I prayed that the recording of this call would never see the light of day.

With nothing left to do but lay there and wait for help to arrive, I gave Parker’s room a quick scan. He had a pile of accounting journals and spreadsheets neatly piled on his nightstand and the dresser in the corner with a flat-screen TV mounted over the top. The small closet door hung open, revealing a handful of color-coordinated suits and dress shirts neatly hanging in a row. There were two dress shoes and a polish kit laying on the floor underneath.

He didn’t have a lot, but his room was organized and clean. The only other thing I knew about him was that he was an accountant who worked too much. I gained that little piece of information from his ex as they tried to hash things out in the other room earlier. That’s when I learned that Parker lied to me about being a rescue pilot for the Coast Guard. Instead, he was nothing more than a boring little bean counter.

“So, how long were you and the ex together for?” I asked, figuring I might as well make small talk while we waited for help to arrive.

He brought his palm up to the back of his neck. “Sarah and I dated for seven years.”

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