Page 108 of Role Play
My heart does a little flip. “Well, in that case, I know just the place.”
After saying our goodbyes to Taio and Saylor, Forrest and I head out into the crisp pre-evening air.
“So, where are we going?” he asks as we walk to the cab. “Gotta let the driver know.”
“Anywhere I want?”
He nods.
“Galbi Grill,” I tell him. “Best Korean BBQ in the city. My mom practically raised me on their food.”
“Perfect.” He opens the passenger door for me. “I’ve been craving Korean.”
I chuckle at the obvious innuendo.
An hour later, after a flirty cab ride, we enter one of my favorite places on earth. The restaurant is bustling, filled with the sizzle of meat on hot plates and the rich aroma of garlic and ginger.
“This place looks…intimidating,” Forrest observes, his eyes darting left and right.
“Two, please,” I say to the hostess. “In a tatami room. Is that okay?” I ask Forrest.
“Sure? What does that mean?”
“Traditional Korean dining. It’s a low table and we sit on the floor on big cushions. But they have regular tables if you prefer.”
“No, tatami it is,” Forrest says eagerly, a wide smile on his face. “Whatever makes you happy.”
The hostess checks her seating map, and beams. “It looks like we have space in Seoul.” She looks at Forrest to clarify, recognizing him as a first-timer. “All the tatami rooms are named after major South Korean cities—Seoul, Busan, Daegu, Incheon. Everything is full with reservations tonight, but there’s only one other couple dining in Seoul, we just seated them. We have another barbeque table open.”
“Great,” he answers, still looking a touch overwhelmed.
The hostess fetches two large menus and leads us to the back of the restaurant. She slides open the partition to the private room, and apologizes to the couple already seated for disrupting them.
My heart sinks when I see who we’re dining with tonight.
“Soraya?” my mom asks, saying my name Korean-style, the accent she normally suppresses barreling through. Her eyes pop in surprise, then latch on to my hand which is weaved in Forrest’s.
Shit, that would’ve been uncomfortable enough, but then the gentleman she’s with turns his head, and my heart falls right out of my ass.
“Dad?” I ask in shock.
“Your dad,” Forrest echoes, nearly choking on the words. “Well,” he murmurs under his breath, “this should be interesting.”
chapter 23
Forrest
The moment my eyes lock with J.P. Cooper’s, I feel like I’ve been hit by a freight train—if freight trains wore designer glasses and had perfect salt-and-pepper hair. Here I am, an escort with a law degree, standing in front of one of the world’s most celebrated authors, who also happens to be my fake girlfriend’s father.
A fake girlfriend who is currently staring at her parents—together—with her mouth hanging open so wide you could park a small aircraft carrier in it.
“Mom? Dad?” Sora squeaks, still clutching my hand like it’s the last life vest on the Titanic. “What are you doing here? Together?”
Jennifer Cho recovers first, smoothing her elegant silk blouse with a practiced calm that reminds me of Sora whenever she’s flustered. “What a lovely surprise, Sora,” she says, switching seamlessly back to a dialect devoid of an accent. “And who is this handsome man?”
I gather my wits and extend my hand, trying not to look like someone who gets paid to take his clothes off for a living. “Forrest Hawkins, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
J.P. Cooper doesn’t rise to shake my hand. Instead, he studies me with the unnerving intensity of someone who makes a living dissecting human nature—or possibly dissecting frogs in his spare time. “Pleasure,” he says, his voice deep and measured.
