Page 5 of Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars (Rock Canyon, Idaho 2)

He put up his hands. It took her two trips to finish, with Travis watching all the while, waiting, she supposed, for her to stop and resume their conversation.

She needed to stay away from him, though, before all that blue-eyed charm melted the steel wall she had put up to keep him out of her heart.

God knew, Charlie used that same Bowers charm to get around her constantly. It wouldn’t take much for Travis to make her forget that they weren’t good for each other, but more importantly, his lifestyle definitely wasn’t good for their son.

“Good-bye, Travis. Good seeing you.”

“Come on, Gemma—”

She shut the door on him and leaned back against it, tears hovering on the edges of her eyes. She’d let her guard down for just a second downstairs, and maybe she had been a little harsh after, but letting Travis get even a tiny hook into her was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.

Walking farther into the room, she picked up the phone and pushed one for room service.

Forget a salad. This is definitely a chocolate cake kind of day.

TRAVIS BOWERS, MULTIPLATINUM, award-winning country artist, was hot under the collar.

She had actually slammed the door in his face.

He could understand it from any other woman, but from Gemma, who had never been the kind to lose her temper or make a scene? It was like his world had taken a turn right into the twilight zone. Which would be another way to explain bumping into Gemma in, of all places, the City of Sin.

Who comes to Vegas for a book conference, anyway?

Gemma, apparently, and that one constant made him smile. Despite the fact that she was harsher than she had been a decade ago, Gemma’s love of books hadn’t changed. He could still picture the curvy girl with glasses and a sweet smile, looking up at him from the pages of whatever book she was reading, just for him.

He could understand a little disgruntlement on her part, but not to the Linda Blair–level he’d just witnessed. It wasn’t like their break up in Phoenix had been his fault. Like he’d told her at the time, that woman had snuck onto his tour bus; he hadn’t invited her.

He could still remember that night; climbing onto that bus and dropping his guitar case on the couch, pulling off his shirt as he headed for the back bedroom. All he’d wanted was a shower and a good night’s sleep, but when he’d opened the door, he’d found his publicist, Emily, lying across his bed.

He’d dropped his shirt in surprise and yelled at her to get out, but she’d just laughed at him. He hadn’t even had a second to process everything before someone was knocking on the door of the bus.

“Get dressed and get the hell off my bus. You’re fired.”

She’d screeched at his back as he’d closed the door and gone to see who was knocking. When he’d opened the door to find one of the security guards and Gemma, he had been so happy he’d forgotten about anything else but her.

Jumping down off the bus, he’d swept her up in his arms and inhaled her light vanilla scent. He still remembered how it had felt to kiss her after that three-month separation, her lips softening under his and her hands holding onto his shoulders.

“Isn’t this sweet?”

Those three little words had destroyed what should have been a happy reunion. Gemma had stiffened in his arms, pulling away to look over his shoulder, and when her hazel eyes had come back to his, they had shimmered with tears.

She hadn’t said a word at first, just turned to run. He’d chased her down and explained what happened, but she hadn’t believed him. Her distrust had stung, but still he’d pleaded with her not to go. In the end, she’d just walked away from him.

Travis didn’t beg. Ever. After living in eight foster homes and spending his childhood fighting for anything he wanted, he’d learned begging got you nothing but heartache and disappointment. You didn’t need anyone who didn’t want you.

The only exception had been Gemma, and she had left him fighting not to cry in a crowded parking lot over ten years ago.

He should walk away and forget about it now, but holding Gemma again, just for a minute, had had him tied up in knots. He couldn’t leave things this way. He had to clear the air.

Maybe if he did that, he could forget her for good.

Not a day went by that Travis hadn’t passed a woman who smelled like her, hadn’t turned to check for sure that it wasn’t Gemma. That he hadn’t played the song he wrote for her, hadn’t seen her face in the crowd, clear as day, only to realize he’d imagined it.

Maybe he could finally throw away the old picture of their trip to Stanley that he kept taped inside his guitar case, taken just a few weeks before he’d left on his first tour.

Whatever her issue was, he was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if he had to sit outside her door all day and night, he wasn’t leaving until she explained exactly what he’d done to piss her off. Maybe then he could fall asleep without the sound of her voice haunting him.

Chapter Two

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