Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(26)

Setting her keys on the counter, she said, “Checking out.”

“Of course, ma’am. How was everything?” the girl behind the desk asked, a wide, friendly smile on her face.

It was a dream come true, until I came back to reality.

“It was good, thank you. You have a lovely hotel,” she said. “Could I have an envelope and a piece of paper? I’d like to leave a note for another guest.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The girl handed her the paper, and Gemma pulled a pen from her purse. The diamond ring’s sparkle caught her eye, and she touched it lightly. It was beautifully elegant, but it wasn’t really hers. She had spent years imagining what it would be like to be Travis’s bride, to look at him on their special day and see him staring back with love in his eyes. It hadn’t been like that, though. She’d been drunk and impulsive, not really weighing what would happen the morning after, when the truth came out. Even if her feelings for Travis hadn’t changed, she had, and they never should have thought one spectacular day would prepare them for a lifetime commitment.

Besides, was that commitment even real if she barely remembered making it?

Gripping the ring, she tried to pull it off, but it wouldn’t budge. She tugged hard several times and then looked up at the receptionist’s confused expression. “Do you have any lotion or something?”

“No, ma’am, but I have some hand sanitizer.” She set the clear gel on the counter, and Gemma put a good amount over the ring until it slipped off easily. Avoiding the clerk’s obvious curiosity, she placed the ring inside the envelope and wrote Travis a short note. Sealing the letter and ring inside, she wrote his name on the front.

Handing it and the sanitizer to the clerk, she said, “Could you please make sure that this envelope and the garment bag get to Travis Bowers? He’s in Suite 1219.”

Gemma handed her a twenty and the woman smiled. “Of course, ma’am. I’ll be sure to take good care of them.”

“Thank you,” Gemma said. After paying her bill and grabbing her bags, she went in search of her car. She had a ten-hour drive home to Rock Canyon, and there was no time like the present to get started.

Looking down at her naked ring finger, she prayed that Travis would see what she was doing was for the best. She hoped he wouldn’t protest or come after her. Despite his apology for not fighting for her, she didn’t think he’d lose too much sleep over this. After all, he’d had ten years to find her—it wasn’t like her cell-phone number had ever changed. If he’d been thinking about her as much as he’d said, he would have apologized sooner.

No, it was just an intense, passionate impulse, and after a quick annulment, we’ll put it behind us, just like when we broke up before.

That’s what she told herself, but if that was the case, why did it feel like someone was ripping out her heart for the second time?



TRAVIS WOKE UP with an aching head and a dry mouth, sure signs that he’d drunk way more than he should have. Rolling over slowly, he grabbed another pillow, burying his face in the softness. It smelled fruity, with a hint of vanilla, and a smile stretched across his face.

Gemma. Last night had been incredible; from the dancing to the hot limo sex, it had been the most fun he’d had in a long while.

“I dare you.”

Travis’s whole body stiffened as he realized two things: one, there was a band on his ring finger, and two, he had flopped over onto Gemma’s side of the bed, but the sheets were cool to the touch.

Opening his eyes, he looked around, then sat up. His first sweep of the room revealed that it was empty, the only thing left of Gemma was a pair of white lacy panties on the chair in the corner.

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.

Hoping 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.