Page 31 of Role Play
“Because unless you’re packing super glue or duct tape, I don’t think you can help me. Also, this is the ladies’ room, so…” I wouldn’t say I slam the door on him, I simply let go of the handle. Gravity is out of my control, folks. The laws of physics are not my responsibility.
But it’s no use anyway. His cat-like “reflexes” kick in again, and he stretches out his arm, catching the door with his flattened palm. He’s able to hold it wide open with his large wingspan, like a magnificent tux-wearing eagle. “Is there anyone else in here?” Forrest asks, his gaze scanning the space beyond me.
“Obviously,” I sass, stretching each syllable like taffy. “A whole crew of us. We’re prepping for the grand finale flash mob. So, if you wouldn’t mind, we need a little privacy.”
“Mk, so you’re alone,” he says, shrugging one shoulder, the fabric of his tuxedo shifting smoothly across his frame.
“Yes.”
His smile widens, creases forming at the corners of his eyes. “I knew you were sassy, but I didn’t realize you were feral.”
I curtsy with a shit-eating grin plastered on my face. I realize after, due to my torn dress, the gesture is both ridiculous and slightly obscene. “I’m Sora. Jokes aside, it’s nice to officially meet you, Forrest.” I raise my eyebrows so high, they’ve surely disappeared into my hairline, perhaps never to return. “Where’s your girlfriend?” I ask accusingly.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he replies, his expression remaining neutral save for a slight wrinkling of his forehead.
I roll my eyes with finesse that would impress even the most insolent of preteens. “Don’t be a pig.”
“Excuse me?” His jaw slackens and his eyes narrow, like shutters closing on windows. I can’t tell if we’re still bantering or if I’ve truly offended him.Whatever.It’s owed after his little prank at the coffeehouse. And it’s my birthday. I’m allowed to be a brat…and cry…and unapologetically eat too much sugar.
“I clearly saw you with your girl—woman, I mean. And even if I didn’t, you guys were the talk of the wedding. Everyone knows you’re an item, so you’re not slick, you’re just sleazy. I don’t think she’d appreciate you flirting with me in the ladies’ room,” I declare, my chin jutting out defiantly.
He wiggles the little sewing kit between his fingers, ignoring my accusations. “Believe it or not, I’m a whiz with a needle and thread. I grew up humble, working on a ranch. I had to learn to patch my Levi’s.”
“A ranch?” I balk, my interest piqued despite my best efforts to remain aloof. Damn my curiosity, always getting the better of my righteous indignation. “But you seem so…Manhattan.”
“And you seem like someone who jumps to conclusions,” he counters, with a smirk. He gestures behind me, his movement smooth and controlled. “I’ll explain, but I need the door closed first.”
I eye him suspiciously, ignoring the butterflies bouncing off the walls of my stomach like they’re in a freaking pinball machine. “Your girlfriend won’t be upset?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s my client.” His voice drops to a whisper, the words barely audible over the hum of the ventilation system. “I was working tonight.”
Working?It’s the way he says it, like it’s a dirty little secret wrapped in expensive paper.Oh. My. Fuck.It can’t be…can it?But I saw his young daughter. There’s no way. Maybe his date has a medical situation and he’s a caretaker?
“Are you a nurse?” I inquire, my brow furrowing with confusion.
He squints his eyes, befuddled, his forehead deeply creasing. “Why does everyone assume I’m in the medical field? Am I giving off a vibe?”
We’re getting closer and closer to the prior conclusion I jumped to, my mind racing around like the last lap of a relay. “So what do you mean you were working tonight?”
“Not another word until you let me in, Sora,” he answers, dead serious. He locks his eyes on mine and I hold my breath, a haze of his allure holding me in place and slowing down my movements, like I’m suddenly swimming through honey.
I step backward, giving him room to enter the women’s bathroom. He advances, then softly shuts the door behind him, the click of the latch oddly unsettling. “I need you to make me two promises before I explain further.”
“Okay.” I audibly gulp when he turns the lock, the sound of metal sliding into place making my heart race.
I ignore the wild thoughts galloping through my mind. Let’s be honest, this situation is the preamble to a steamy scene right out of one of my books. But even if my fantasy were to leap right off the page, I’d never be as bold as any of my heroines. Not tomention I look like a wet raccoon with my eye makeup in total anarchy.
Forrest holds up one long finger. “First, you can’t tell a soul what I’m about to tell you. I’m going out on a limb here by trusting you.” He holds up another. “Second, you have to try not to judge me. Are we clear on the terms?”
I wordlessly nod. My eyes are so wide, they’ve gone a bit dry in my state of shocked anticipation. Now, I’m getting worried he’s not a prostitute. I’m getting hitman energy from the laser-focused stare he’s giving me.
“Good.” He makes his way past me to the vanity. His movements precise, he neatly scoots my items to the side and sets down the sewing kit. After unwedging the needle, and collecting the small spool of black thread, he licks the tip of his finger. “I’m an escort. I was hired to attend this wedding with Celeste.” He casually threads the needle, twisting the thread and securing a knot.
I breathe out in relief, the tension leaving my body in a rush. “Okay, so you’re just paid arm candy. You don’t actually sleep with women for money.”
“No, I do.” He finds my stunned expression in the mirror and dishes out a cocky smile paired with a wink. “For the right price.”
chapter 9
