Need Me

by Shelley K. Wall

  Conan stuck his nose into a pot and drooled a little doggy fertilizer into the leaves. He flung his head around. The action caused his tail to swish—toward the pots.

  Crash. Uh-oh.

  “Conan, sit.” Roger pointed at the floor. At least the dog had the brains to comply. Roger rushed to pick up the clay remnants and scoop the plant and dirt into his hand. He darted a glance around for another container. Where could he dump the mess?

  “I take it you’re not one to sneak into a place quietly and unobserved.” Caroline leaned against the open door with a hand fisted on her hip. Her light brown hair was drawn on top of her head in a haphazard knot.

  “Leave it there; I’ll clean up later.”

  “Sorry.” What an idiotic idea to bring the dog. How would he clean the paint from her car and keep Conan corralled at the same time? He hadn’t thought it through. “So, are you a cat person?”

  Caroline uncrossed her arms and strode to the rebellious mutt. She kneeled to one knee and massaged his ears. That was all it took to win his favor. In return, the lovesick mutt drooled all over her knee and licked her cheek. She laughed. “I like all animals but don’t have any. My landlord won’t allow even a hamster or fish. My roommate snuck in a cat for a few weeks—he nixed that right away. Your guy is sweet.”

  Roger relaxed his shoulders. “Clumsy, big, and horse-like—but not sweet. So, maybe you could take him for a walk around the block while I de-paint your car?”

  She eyed him warily. “You just said he’s a horse. Am I going to be hauled around the street like a cart?”

  Roger shook his head. “Nope. He’s great on a leash.”

  “Then why isn’t he on one?”

  “Because he doesn’t need it. I trained him to heel, and he’ll stay at my side most of the time.”

  Disbelief clouded her features as she furrowed her brow. She pointed to the remains of her plant. “I’d believe you except for a small pile of evidence laying there on my porch.”

  “Okay, so he got a little excited. That doesn’t normally happen.”

  Caroline patted the dog and rose. “I have a backyard. He’ll do great there.”

  Roger nodded. Even better. Then she could stay with him while he did the chore. Once Conan was secured, they went to work on the car. Paint remover took the golden sheen off the license easily. He followed that with the water hose and a soapy sponge.

  When they finished, she stepped back and grinned. “Better than new. You hungry?”

  Chapter Three

  Caroline tucked her toe under a hip. She sat on the bar stool in her kitchen and watched Roger eat. It was a simple grilled cheese sandwich, but he savored it like a rib eye. How could a guy make the simple act of chewing appear to be the greatest event of his life? Based on his expression, you’d think it was better than sex. She wanted to take his picture. Badly. “Do you always eat like that?”

  His eyes bugged. “What? Am I making noise?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “No. I just can’t remember ever seeing someone enjoy their food as much as much as you. It’s ... cute.” She wanted to say sexy, but changed her mind at the last second.

  “Cute? Cute is for puppies, kittens, and little kids. Not grown men. Surely you can come up with something better?”

  She already had, but he’d never know. She doubted the term grown man applied, either, but chose not to argue. She shrugged. “Why do guys hate that description so much? It’s meant as a compliment. I hate to break it to you, buddy, but you’re—cute.”

  He frowned with a wad of sandwich in his cheek, and for a second she thought they shared a moment. She concentrated on meeting his gaze, but it wasn’t easy. He seemed to take inventory of her features in a way that made her feel small and unworthy.

  Roger was comfortable in his skin, more so than most college students ever achieved. He seemed to see right through her, and she was pretty sure he’d already decided to leave as soon as the sandwich was finished. Which it was. He ran his fingers through a sexy mop of thick brown hair and wiped his mouth. At least he used a napkin—aka a paper towel—unlike most guys his age. He wadded the napkin and tossed it toward her trash can. It fell short and bounced across the tile, skidding to a stop under the cabinet. “Oops.”

  “You need to work on your shot.”

  “Guess so. I wasn’t much on the three-pointer in high school. My shot was taking a jumper from the top of the key.” His face lit up with a warm smile. A flitter of nervous anxiety flicked through her body.

  Caroline stood and took a breath, sucking it in like a cold drink on a hot day. She was in trouble. Roger’s warm brown eyes crinkled into a caramel-colored pool of enticement. The last thing she needed in her senior year was enticement. “Thanks for washing my car. All I really wanted was to get the paint removed, but you went way beyond. It looks amazing—for a ten-year-old Land Rover.”

  A loud thud interrupted their meeting of the eyes, and Caroline was thankful to have a distraction. Roger lifted his head and peered out at the yard through her back window. “I hate to break it to you, but I think Conan just killed your lawn chair.”

  Outside, the dog had attempted to curl himself into the seat of her weathered chair. Unfortunately, Conan’s weight and four sharp-nailed paws were more than the chair could stand. The fabric had torn so that his back leg hung through to the ground. The hound whimpered and searched for assistance, trying to tug himself free, until the chair wobbled and flipped over on top of him.

  Caroline and Roger stood for a moment and watched the spectacle, side by side, hands on hips. She laughed. Testosterone oozed from Roger’s pores; she could practically touch it, only inches from her arm. She stepped back, needing to put a little more space between them.

  Roger pulled the door open and stepped into the yard. The dog shot him gooey help-me eyes from the depths of the demolished chair. The water hose had saturated his T-shirt to a nice body-clinging fit, and Caroline found it impossible not to stare. He reached up and tugged the sucking fabric free from his abs. It peeled from his back like scorched skin from a sunburn, unwilling to release its hold. Her breath hitched as the sun glanced across his back and highlighted the roundness of his shoulders under the transparency of wet cotton.

  She grabbed her camera from the counter and raised it to her eye. Click. Click. Click. He bent over and eased each paw free and walked Conan from the debris of her former sunbathing chair. Click. Click. She should have asked before taking the pictures, but the moment was perfect. This big burly student saving his pet from misery. Epic.

  “Sorry about that. ... I guess I owe you a chair now. And a flower pot. I should have left him at home. He tends to tear things up when he gets excited.” The dog planted his ass next to Roger and panted, unconcerned about the fate of the chair. Roger rotated toward Caroline and stopped as he teetered to balance on his bent legs. Click. She snapped one last shot of him squinting through a morning burst of light.

  “You’re taking pictures.”

  She shrugged. “Yes, is that okay? He’s just such a great animal. I’m a journalism major, and I’m always looking for subjects that appeal to our emotions. He’s perfect.”

  “You’re taking pictures of me.”

  Busted. She shrugged. “Um, yeah, and the dog.”

  He strode toward her with a hand outstretched. “Give me the camera.”

  Uh-oh. Was he mad? Would he delete all the images? She swallowed. “I’m sorry—I should have asked.” She handed over the camera.

  He grinned and looked at the display, scrolling through each frame. “You’re good. I like them.”

  Caroline shrugged. “I take pictures for events as a side job to pay my rent.”

  He lifted the camera and pointed her way. Click. He moved to her side. Click. “It’s only fair to have you in the frame, too. After all, how can you accurately record something if you’re not there? Right?”

  She nodded and bathed in his smile. Whatever you say, Mr. Chocolate Eye Candy. “Right.
”

  “Listen, Caroline, I was wondering ... would you be interested in going with me to this party I have to attend next weekend?”

  Damn. Did she really want to get involved with a guy who painted cartoons on trees, who obviously hasn’t fully matured? She stared into those crinkled eyes.

  Oh, what the hell.

  • • •

  The following weekend, Caroline analyzed the chains laid out on the entry table at the Tau Kappa Epsilon house and cringed. “What are those for, and remind me why I agreed to this?”

  She stopped suddenly at the door, and Roger banged into her from behind, sending her forward a step. “What’s wrong?” His breath fanned the back of her neck.

  Oh, Lord, how long was this fiasco supposed to last? She couldn’t help but widen her eyes. “I’m wondering if I should have asked more than just the time and place for this party.” She picked one of the chains up and felt his chest warm against her shoulder as he peeked over.

  “Oh. Um, yeah, I should have told you the theme. To be honest, I’d forgotten myself. It’s a ‘ball and chain’ party.”

  “What’s a ball and chain party?”

  “Don’t worry—no one’s going to lock you in a dungeon or anything.”

  That wasn’t exactly what had passed through her mind, but it was good to know. No, her thoughts had gone straight into the gutter. A gutter full of chains and ties and him—naked—but she’d never admit those thoughts to a soul.

  “We’ll be hooked together for the evening,” Roger explained. “I go where you go and vice versa. There are little armbands on the end of each chain, see?”

  Seriously? Wow. Who came up with that idea?

  He stepped past and grabbed her hand, pulling her along. Was he afraid she’d turn and run? She was tempted to plan an escape route and darted a glance around, just in case things went sour. Her thoughts must have been all over her face because he smiled one of his trademark dimpled bolts of happiness.

  A tallish guy with brown curls slid their way—reminding her of an old Tom Cruise movie from her mom’s day. Except his sneakers squeaked on the tile as he approached. “Hi there, I’m Sean. Are you Roger’s date?”

  Caroline glanced between the two men. “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether we’re going to do anything crazy and stupid while tied together like prisoners.” She lifted her hand to jingle their intended jewelry.

  Roger playfully yanked on the ponytail she’d twisted at the back of her head. “Well, it would be a shame to waste all these great toys, right? Sean, this is Caroline. She’s a little worried about the chain thing.”

  Sean grinned. “They’re safe. The cuffs are just made out of elastic hair ties, so you can take them off if you guys get sick of each other or something. It’s just for fun. We have some games inside, too, and there’s a prize for whoever can complete all the games while staying connected for the duration of the evening. Oh, and if he disappoints you, come back and trade him in—I’m sure every guy here would kill for a chance to be handcuffed to you for a night, girl.”

  Caroline sent her gaze skyward for half a beat, then twisted the elastic band between her fingers and gave it a couple of tugs. “Thank God they’re not really handcuffs.”

  Roger rolled the elastic over his hand and winced. “Shit, it’s a little tight. Handcuffs might have been a little more comfortable. It feels like my circulation is being cut off.”

  Sean rolled his eyes. “That’s hers, dumbass. There’s a big end and a little end. You get the big one.”

  “Why didn’t you say that first?”

  Caroline couldn’t resist. “Oh, rats. He promised me I would get the big one tonight.”

  Sean’s voice resembled a jackhammer as he laughed, and he motioned the people behind them to step forward for their armbands.

  Caroline took the smaller band from Roger and rolled it into place. What a novel idea for a party, though she wasn’t sure if the intention was to scare people away from making commitments or just give these hormonal idiots a chance to play at bondage. Surely the organizers hadn't actually believed they could build a relationship out of tied together for the evening? The two entered the great room of Roger’s frat house, which was decorated with hand-painted signs featuring relationship-bashing smears and ball-and-chain jokes. Well, that eliminated one theory. The environment didn’t seem too conducive to a romantic handcuff-induced rendezvous, either. It was bound to be a long evening.

  Another guy shoved an unopened beer toward Caroline, and she reached to grab the drink. Roger’s arm accompanied hers, whooshing out and hitting her in the side. She grabbed her rib. “Oops, sorry about that—chain hazard,” he said.

  She shrugged. “No worries.”

  His breath tickled her ear as he moved his free arm past to signal for a second drink. “I guess I should probably apologize upfront for anything my fingers or arms do without my knowledge based on their bondage level.” Another beer appeared, and they both popped the cans open with their free hands.

  “Now that’s an excuse I haven’t heard before.” Caroline turned to survey the small crowded room and bumped right into Roger’s chest. “Yikes. This is going to take some getting used to.”

  “Bump into me all you want. I won’t complain.”

  “You say that now, but wait until I spill this all over you. Then you might change your mind.”

  He shrugged. “The cleanup might be kinda fun. Let’s go see what the games require. You ready for this?”

  Nope, but if she ditched the chain, would she be whipped for desertion? She wasn’t ready for anything so, um, brutal. But that wasn’t entirely true—she was nothing if not courageous. She’d craved any form of adventure for years, and her upcoming graduation came with the promise of a new escapade—into reality. Roger lifted his beer and took a sip. Caroline figured she’d better take advantage of his raised glass and do the same.

  Roger pointed toward a group. In unison, they shifted their drinks to the other side. She followed with her arm dangling alongside his, their fingers only inches apart. She hoisted their arms up. “They could have at least given us a little more chain. What is this ... twelve inches? What if I have to pee?”

  Roger lifted a brow but kept his dimples still. “I promise I won’t look—at least not much.”

  She reached up to punch him, but the chain yanked his hand along and she whiffed. Not to be deterred, she put the beer in her chained hand and swatted him with the other. At least he didn’t say anything gross about the twelve inches. “I seriously doubt that.”

  The room had wall-to-ceiling windows, and the thick curtains were drawn to display outside activities. Caroline’s eyes popped as she spotted a giant yellow-and-blue jungle gym in the yard. Teams of two slithered through tubes that were barely big enough for one adult male, let alone two people chained together. Gulp.

  “That looks like fun,” Roger said. She didn’t have to look to know his dimples were showing. She gave him a short elbow jab to the stomach, and the chains jingled as if enticing her to deliver more punishment. She debated a second jab and realized it probably wasn’t very courteous to abuse her escort.

  Roger rubbed the spot on his abs. “You know, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can always go get a pizza and beer. Or study at the library. Don’t feel like you’re committed.”

  Committed. A funny choice of words, considering the theme of the party. She’d never been one to shy away from a challenge, and today wouldn’t be the first. “The library on a weekend night? Are you kidding? This is right up my alley. I love a good time and a good competition. Bring it on, baby.” She reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, then dragged him in for a short kiss. Hard. Firm. Good tension and just the right amount of challenge.

  Roger yanked backward, jangling chains and sloshing beer. “That was unexpected.”

  She shrugged. “I figured we’d get it out of the way first, considering we’re tied to eac
h other for the night. We’ll have to rub many more body parts together if we want to win.”

  Roger’s jaw dropped. With false bravado, Caroline strolled forth into the group of people, forcing him to lurch after her. A warm tingle started to rise from the depths of her insides. There was something oddly enjoyable about having the power to make someone follow—and more. She supposed if she itched her nose, his hand would also touch her face. Should she test the theory?

  Why not? She lifted her hand, but instead of itching her nose, she pushed her hair back from her face. Oomph.

  The rope was longer than thought. His hand connected just below her collarbone. A few more inches and he’d have copped a feel.

  He coughed. “You planning to warn me next time you do that, or just slap me after?”

  Caroline gave him an innocent blink of her eyes. “You mean I get to choose?”

  He lifted the chain. “You’re in charge, gorgeous.”

  “I like the sound of that. So what’re the rules of this giant hamster cage? Do we just have to make it through to the end while staying tied up? Or is there more?” From the ground, the challenge appeared bearable, but her cynical nature knew there had to be a catch.

  Roger shrugged. “No idea. Let’s ask.”

  Chapter Four

  The giant hamster cage was a rented jungle gym that one of Roger’s frat brothers had found. The beginning of the obstacle course had rope ladders resembling a ship’s net. There were tubes above where Roger and Caroline could vaguely see people flopping and sliding around within, but it was clouded with age.

  A hand shot out and slithered down the inside of the tube near the end. Wait. That wasn’t age-induced clouding—it was oil. Holy hot-mamma-mud-wrestling, they were expected to oil up and slither through the entire thing. Gulp. Roger’s face burned so hot that he figured it had to be worse than a hot flash. He shot a glance at Caroline as she focused on the contraption. Based on the way her eyes had narrowed, she also registered the lubrication involved. He expected her to be in full panic mode, ready to cut and run.