Page 48 of Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars (Rock Canyon, Idaho 2)

TRAVIS WALKED INTO Buck’s Shot Bar and thanked God there were only a couple of people inside. The last thing he wanted was to be bombarded by a bunch of excited townspeople.

He sat at the bar, and Eric Henderson looked over at him with a grin. “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Travis, you look like hell.”

Travis shook Eric’s hand. He had always like the Henderson family, from Buck and Connie to their boys, Eric and Grant. They had a daughter, but she’d taken off after she graduated high school and he’d never met her. If it hadn’t been for Buck letting him play in the bar, he never would have been picked up by Off Road Records.

Or left Gemma. If he had been in town when she’d found out she was pregnant, how would his life have changed? Was she right about him resenting her if he’d been stuck here, working to support his family instead of following his dream? He’d like to think not, but the teenaged version of himself hadn’t exactly been mature.

“Eric, give me a shot of Jack. Leave the bottle, though,” Travis said.

“Ouch. I take it you know, then,” Eric said, pouring the whiskey into a shot glass.

Travis glared. “Know what?”

“About Charlie. You’ve seen Gemma?” Eric asked.

Travis took the shot and laughed bitterly. “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen Gemma. So, does everyone know he’s mine?”

“Well, it’s not like Gemma ever told anyone, but he’s your spit for sure. He’s a great kid,” Eric said, refilling Travis’s empty glass.

“I wouldn’t know. Only talked to him for about five minutes,” Travis said, downing the next one.

“Gemma’s a good mom, too,” Eric added, pouring again.

“Again, I wouldn’t know, although I have my doubts.” He downed his third shot and said, “Anyone who can keep a father from his kid isn’t exactly of strong moral character.”

“I know it’s none of my business, but Gemma is a good woman, Travis,” Eric said.

The last thing Travis wanted to hear about was Gemma’s virtues. Throwing down some money, he took the bottle over to a table and sat down.

God, how could he have been so wrong about her? What the hell had possessed her to think it was better to lie than trust him? His hand squeezed around the bottle, he wished again for something he could hit.

“Hey there, Travis,” a feminine voice said.

Travis looked up and tried to smile. “Kirsten, how the hell are you?”

Kirsten Winters had always been a little on the ditzy side, but she had been hotter than the Fourth of July in high school. If anything, she was even hotter now.

“I’m good. Want some company?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I’d be much fun to be around. Had a bad day,” he said, taking another shot.

“Poor baby.” Patting his hand on the table, she said, “Wanna come back to my place? Talk about it?”

Kirsten and he had dated for a few weeks in his junior year, but even with that history, he wasn’t tempted. He was too pissed off to think about sex, and despite everything Gemma had done, he wasn’t the type to cheat on his wife.

“That’s sweet, honey, but I’m married.” His ring had been packed away in his bag after Gemma had requested that he not tell anyone, but who cared now?

Kirsten’s face showed her surprise and disappointment. “Oh, well, congratulations. Who’s the lucky woman?”

“Travis Bowers? Check it out, Walt, it’s Travis Bowers.”

Travis grimaced and turned his gaze to Wayne Coulter. He had despised the Coulter brothers: they were rotten bastards. Wayne was the leader, and Travis had busted his nose senior year when he and his brother had cornered Gemma in the bathroom at a party. When he’d heard her screaming, Mike and he had burst in on Gemma, smashed between the two guys. Pulling Wayne out, Travis had thrown him against the wall and gone after him. All he remembered past that was Gemma pulling on him, begging him to stop.

“Wayne, Walter,” Travis said coolly.

“Well, I can’t believe it. Mr. Superstar himself back in Rock Canyon. What happened, Travis? Country music find out you were a hack?”

Travis grinned. “Hey, you know what, Wayne, the nose looks good. Can hardly see the lump.”

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