Page 33 of Baxter's Right-Hand Man

He made a funny face. “I read and I probably watch too much TV, but…that’s it. My life is pretty quiet. Nothing like yours.”

“Mine is excruciatingly quiet at the moment. I wish I had a hobby that didn’t involve interacting with people. I should take up rock-climbing or bungee jumping.” I sighed, only half kidding.

“I thought Baxter already did those things,” he teased.

“Oh, for sure. He also plays piano and guitar, speaks eight languages fluently, and never breaks a sweat.” I shot a faux-serious look his way. “I hate to break this to you, but I’m not that talented.”

Lorenzo pursed his lips together. “You don’t play an instrument?”

“Nope. I tried the drums, but I hurt my own ears. I tried piano too, but there are so many keys, it gets confusing, ya know?” I waited for his laughter to subside, adding, “And I’m only fluent in English. I do know a few catchphrases and crucial swear words in French, German, Italian, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, and Arabic, but I have to be careful ’cause I tend to mix them up. I accidentally told a cameraman I liked eating rocks in Russian when we filmed in Moscow a few years ago. He left a bag of rocks with a fork and knife in my trailer the next day as a joke.”

Lorenzo burst out laughing. It was bright and beautiful, like a melodic bell or a gentle breeze whistling through the canyon. It was honest and unfettered, revealing colorful pieces of a puzzle. And yeah, he was a puzzle to me.

Suddenly, I wanted to learn everything I could about him.

“That’s hysterical.” He set his spoon in his bowl and dragged a crust of bread through the broth. “You’ve traveled all over the world, haven’t you? Must be amazing.”

I nodded. “I’ve been places I never knew existed, and I’ve met some incredible people. I love my job. How about you?”

“I love my job too.”

I tore a piece of bread off and tossed it at him, eliciting the expected WTF growl. “No, I meant…have you traveled much? And do you speak another language besides smartass?”

He threw the bread at my chest and pumped his fist in victory. “Hey, you started it.”

“And I will end it,” I quipped in a robotic tone.

Lorenzo cracked up again. “You’re kinda funny.”

“Thanks. Now stop being so fucking mysterious, and answer a few of my genius questions.”

“All right.Hablo español con fluidez,and I’ve done a little traveling. Mostly trips to Hawaii, Cancun, San Francisco, local mountains…nothing crazy. Oh, I went to Miami a couple of years ago with my ex, but I’ve never been to Europe or Asia or Australia. Someday…”

I drizzled dressing over my salad as I sorted through memories of my visits to other continents and places I’d recommend visiting. I opened my mouth and something else came out.

“How long were you and your ex together?”

He raised a brow, swirling wine in his glass methodically before replying, “Nine years.”

“Whoa. That’s a long-ass time.”

“Mmhmm. It is. More wine? This is fantastic. Conrad Winery, right? I toured their vineyard last April with my friend Lizzy and her husband. Beautiful property,” he said, reaching for the bottle in a rather obvious attempt to change the topic.

If I were anyone else, I’d be cool and let it go, but I was too fucking curious. And…a little jealous. What can I say? When I crushed, I crushed hard.

“Why’d you break up?”

“We didn’t want the same things anymore,” he replied, topping off my glass. “It happens.”

I stabbed a piece of lettuce, regarding him thoughtfully. “No, that’s not it. He did something.”

Lorenzo frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“Your ear twitched.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a tell. I took a master class from a Vegas card shark before I filmedThe Long Journey. She said it’s all about recognizing tiny gestures.” I tapped my earlobes. “Like twitching ears.”