The Real Baxter (The Baxter Chronicles 1)

I narrowed my eyes. “Did you binge without me?”

“Nope. I can read plot twists a mile away. Once his killing spree starts, he’ll go rogue…torn between omnipotence and guilt. The guilt will get him in the end. It always does.”

“Are you going to talk through this entire show?” I groused.

He shot a mischievous grin my way before turning his attention to the flat-screen in his great room. “When is your audition for Macbeth?”

“End of summer. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Be curious after the show,” I scolded, stealing a fry from him. A minute later, I reached for the remote and muted the program. “One more thing. Do not put in a word in for me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about. If you have some buddy at the playhouse or know someone who knows someone…don’t use your influence to do me any favors.”

Seb frowned. “I wouldn’t do that.”

“You would totally do that. And though I think your heart is in the right place, I don’t want your help. I want to do this one on my own. I’m serious.”

“I won’t do a thing. I promise.” He linked his pinky around mine and squeezed it. “Did you audition for the lead?”

“No. Ross.”

“Ross?” Seb wrinkled his brow. “The only Ross I remember is in Friends.”

“Hmph. I’ve never seen a single episode of Friends,” I commented, unmuting the program.

Seb gaped at me incredulously. “No way.”

“Way.”

“How is that possible? Didn’t you watch TV in the nineties?”

“Yeah, but I was a kid. I was watching Nickelodeon.”

Seb shook his head in mock horror. “Wow. Thank you for the reminder that my AARP card will be in the mail shortly.”

I chuckled and paused the show. “Enough with the age stuff. You’re a sexy motherfucker.”

“Thanks, but it’s going to take me a minute to process that you watched the same channel Oliver loved when he was a kid.”

“Maybe Oliver and I just have good taste,” I teased, turning to the frozen action on the screen before sliding my gaze to a family portrait of Seb with Oliver and Charlie at the beach. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Is Oliver gonna avoid me indefinitely?”

Ugh. Why did I ask that? Talk about setting yourself up.

But damn it, I was genuinely…bummed. I thought Oliver and I had bonded over FaceTime in London over his Claymation school project, but it had been crickets ever since, and we’d been home for almost two months now. Obviously, he didn’t like that I was his dad’s lover, aka fake boyfriend.

This was an awkward topic to address. I understood that Seb wanted to protect his son, but I’d met Oliver and we got along. It seemed like a lot of needless effort to keep us separated when a simple conversation of the “I’m not going to steal your dad’s attention or pretend to be someone I’m not” variety might work better in the long run.

Seb twitched his nose and glanced at the photo on the shelf next to the TV. “Oliver is…cautious and—”

“He’s pissed, Seb. We told him I was your bodyguard and then switched the story. He’s old enough to be offended that you felt the need to lie to him. I’m complicit and I know I’m not gonna be around forever, but it doesn’t sit right with me. I’d like to fix it if I can.” I put my hands up in surrender. “Your call. Just let me know if I can do anything.”

“Okay.” He regarded me for a long moment. “Come over for pancakes Sunday morning. Oliver’s with his mom in Washington celebrating his birthday with her family at her lake house. It makes sense since Charlie and Gray are out of town too. Anyway, he’ll be home Friday. He’s having some friends over here on Saturday, but Sunday is free. And he’s been talking about continuing his Claymation movie to enter in a film show in the fall, so…maybe that’s something to talk about.”

“Okay, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you. You’re someone I think he should know.” Seb smiled, then rested his head on my shoulder.

And me? I blinked at the sudden watery feeling behind my eyelids.

Seb had no idea what he did to me. I felt myself slip under his spell every day little by little. His house didn’t feel too cold or too big anymore. His office was no longer a fortress. We slept together, shared meals, watched television, and talked like old friends.

It was unnerving. I didn’t want to fall for Seb Rourke. No way. I wanted to keep this casual so that when he dumped me, I’d be ready for it. And let’s be real, it was going to happen eventually.

A fake boyfriend who hoped to get a role at a respected theater in spite of his rusty résumé was not likely to get an upgrade to real boyfriend. Not for someone like Seb. This was the real world. I got it. I just didn’t like the sinking feeling that this was going to hurt like hell when it was over.