Page 29 of Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars (Rock Canyon, Idaho 2)

A sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach. No, she wouldn’t . . .

“Gemma?” he called, getting up from the bed to search for her, but it was no use. She wasn’t there. He tried calling her room next, but there was no answer. He grabbed a couple of Tylenol from his bag, swallowing them with a glass of water.

Why would she leave without saying a word?

He remembered watching the last couple, high-school sweethearts who had lasted through college, stand up and kiss.

“That could have been us,” he’d whispered.

“You think?”

He had no idea what wild hair had popped up, but he’d nodded.

“It still could be.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m going to go stand under that arbor, and if you want to meet me there, you have five minutes.”

“Travis . . .”

Sitting down on the bed, he put his head in his hands and groaned. He’d practically dared her to marry him, but why? They were just starting to have fun and get to know each other again. Why had he drunk-married her? And why had she agreed and then taken off? They’d both been out of their minds. They could have talked it through.

Hopi

ng maybe he was wrong, that maybe she hadn’t left yet, he called down to the front desk.

“O’Shea Hotel, Gretchen speaking,” a cheery voice said.

“Hello, this is Travis Bowers in 1219, I was wondering if . . .”

“Oh, Mr. Bowers, I have some things waiting for you at the front desk,” Gretchen said.

“What things?” His voice was nothing more than a guttural growl.

“There’s an envelope and a garment bag, left for you by . . .”

“I know who left them. I’ll be down soon.” He slammed down the phone and cursed.

Damn her. She hadn’t even had the decency to wake him up but had run out on him while he was sleeping. His thoughts strayed to the mysterious I-love-you phone call. If it was a boyfriend, she obviously wouldn’t want the guy to know she’d fallen into bed with him, let alone married him. But why not come clean?

Well, she had another thing coming if she thought he was going to sit back and let her go this time. Pulling on his clothes and stuffing her underwear into his jeans pocket, he quickly packed up his suite and walked out the door to the elevator. The operator said very little, and Travis was glad. He was in no mood to make small talk.

When the doors opened to the lobby, Travis walked straight to the reception desk.

“I’m here to check out and pick up some things that were left for me,” Travis said.

The receptionist’s smile dimmed slightly at his abrupt tone. “What room?”

“Travis Bowers in 1219.”

Looking very uncomfortable, the girl went into the back and brought out a garment bag with an envelope. Travis handed her his credit card and took the items from her, laying the garment bag on the counter while he opened the letter.

Something fell out onto the floor with a ping and he bent down to retrieve the wedding ring they’d picked out hours before. His heart pinched as he gripped the ring in his fist. It was bad enough she had left without telling him in person, but leaving behind her ring for him . . . if she’d wanted to make him feel like just some guy she fucked in Vegas, she’d made her point.

He already knew what was coming when he pulled the letter out of the envelope, but it didn’t make the stab of betrayal hurt less.

Travis,

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