The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1)

“What’s the truth?” I asked, squeezing his foot.

“We like each other.”

Sounded good to me.

And it was true.

However, I was wary about being a PR solution.

Seb’s nonstop entertainment-world machinations drove me nuts. But I understood why they were necessary.

I understood there were a lot of variables involved in making movies and running a growing studio. I understood that in many ways, Hollywood was still the Wild West, an entity unto itself where rules were made and broken on a whim for the sake of a sale. I wasn’t sure how that would translate to me. It seemed like a good idea to set a few rules and boundaries. Seb agreed.

“Rule one, I’m not your boy toy. I’m not dropping a shift at the restaurant to rub your balls under your desk. I’m not moving into your house or driving your cars. I’m still me. I’m not changing to fit into your world.”

He frowned. “That’s more than one rule. And you’re rather presumptuous. I never asked you to move in. But if we drive anywhere together, we’re taking my car. I’m not getting into that ancient death trap again.”

“Prima fuckin’ donna,” I teased, chuckling at his halfhearted scowl.

“What’s rule two?”

“We’ll see each other twice a week.”

“Twice? No chance. That’s not enough. I’m way too horny to be satisfied with a biweekly booty call.”

I snorted and grabbed my crotch. “You need more of this, eh?”

Seb rested his foot on my package and nodded. “I do. Four times a week. But we’ll have to work around Oliver’s schedule.”

“Deal.”

“Rule three?”

“We’re monogamous. I’m not sharing you. I don’t play like that.”

Seb smiled. “Agreed. Anything else?”

“I don’t know…wait, I do. Look, I know this isn’t real, but I need you to be honest with me. If there’s any behind-the-scenes BS going on, tell me. I don’t want to be the last one to know my boyfriend dumped me.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Hey, I just meant…I need to know what’s going on. To do that, I need the real Seb to be involved. Not the real Baxter. Don’t tell me there’s no difference. I know you better than you think.”

Seb stared at me for a long moment, then closed his eyes and melted into the upholstery. He looked weary and conflicted, as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. I didn’t think he’d respond, but after a minute or so, he mumbled, “Don’t be so sure of that.”

I wasn’t sure of anything.

I literally had no idea what I’d gotten myself into, but I knew I had a lot of explaining to do when I got home.

“A boyfriend. Who is this boy?”

And so it began.

I winced as I reached for the remote control and sank into the corner of my sofa. “He’s not a boy, Ma. He’s a grown man, and his name is Sebastian.”

“I saw the paper. I can read. And I saw you on the television.” Her thick Italian accent was more pronounced than usual. A sure sign she was agitated.

“Really?”

“On the entertainment show. The TZB.”

“TMZ,” I corrected.

“Hmph. It was a bad photo, but it was you.”

“Yeah, well…”

“I want to meet him,” she demanded. “Invite him to your house in August, and I will cook for him. Capiche?”

“Okay, but he’s a busy man, Ma. I don’t—”

“Here’s your father.”

“Is there somethin’ in the water in California? What the hell’s happening out there, for Pete’s sake?” Dad grumbled in greeting.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, yourself. How’s the weather? Is it hot? I hate it when it’s too hot. I’m putting my order in for an even seventy-three degrees.”

“That’s an odd number,” I snarked.

He chuckled. “College was good for you, eh?”

I smiled as I channel surfed, stopping at the Phillies game. “Yep. I’m watchin’ the game here. If you’re gonna give me a hard time, let’s get it over with.”

“Gah, we look like shit tonight, don’t we? Our closer is an opener and he can’t throw a pea in the ocean.”

I glanced at the score and shrugged. “It’s a tie game, two innings to go. Don’t give up yet.”

“I never do,” he groused. “Did I tell you I painted the fence?”

“No, how’d it go?”

“Terrible. My back is killin’ me now and…”

I let him ramble for a while, but he was making me nervous. I could tell he was being careful with me. This was what happened when you told stupid lies. He probably guessed that bodyguard nonsense was a ruse and was wondering if I knew what the hell I was doing. That was fair.

But I needed to know something else.

“Dad?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

I dropped the remote on the coffee table and leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees. My heart slammed against my chest and my palms were clammy as hell. I shouldn’t have needed confirmation. I knew my parents loved me. I knew we’d be okay, but…I needed words.

“Are you cool with…me?”