Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(28)

“Ugh, you make me crazy! You’re next on my matchmaking list, mark my words!”

Gemma, wanting off the subject, said, “How’s Eric?”

“Shut up,” Gracie snapped. “For the last time, there is nothing going on between me and that Neanderthal.”

Gemma grinned. No matter how much she denied it, Gemma knew that something was up with them. Gracie and Eric Henderson couldn’t be in the same room together without sparks flying, and after last Valentine’s Day . . . well, even if Gracie wouldn’t comment on it, speculation still ran rampant.

“I tell you what: You leave me alone about my love life and I’ll leave you alone. Fair?”

“Whatever; just get home. I want someone to hang out with, and Michael refuses to watch anything with Sandra Bullock in it.”

“I’ll be there soon,” Gemma promised.

“Be safe. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Gemma hung up the phone, feeling guilty. She never lied to Gracie; there was no need. With Gracie, it was always a judgment-free zone, but deep down, she knew Gracie thought she should have told Travis about Charlie years ago. If she explained what had happened to Gracie, and that she still hadn’t told him, she had a feeling Gracie would flip her lid.

For the first time in ten years, she’d been self-interested and forgotten how her actions could hurt others. Especially her nine-year-old son.

Starting the car, she pulled out onto the two-lane road that led to Interstate 80. As she looked around the bareness of Nevada, everything she had to feel guilty about made her want to find a cave, crawl inside, and stay there.

And then there was Travis. Her eyes filled with tears, blurring her vision, and she reached up to wipe them away. She had been stupid and selfish, thinking, if only for a moment, that she could have him and her life in Rock Canyon, too. He wanted to travel and perform, go to charity events and award shows. He wanted to be fawned over by millions of fans and stay on the road for months at a time. She wasn’t up for any of that. The only thing she could do was walk away, again.

And to be honest, perhaps she was a little more than terrified of what he’d say if he finally knew about Charlie. How do you tell someone you once loved that you’d kept something so important from them? When was the right time to finally say, “Oh, by the way, I was pregnant when you left, and now we have a nine-year-old son. Surprise!”

Simple answer: there wasn’t a right time. Travis would never forgive her for it, and she couldn’t blame him. Even though part of her still believed she’d made the right decision at the time, the other part was shaking its head in disapproval.

And last, Charlie, her biggest joy, the one person for whom she would give her life. If he found out she’d not only seen his dad but had married Travis and still not told him, she might lose her baby, too. She’d never lied to him before, but keeping her weekend with Travis to herself was really for his own good.


And hers.

At least that’s what she was trying to tell herself.



GEMMA WOKE UP in her own bed the next morning, still feeling hung over. Of course, that could have been because Gracie had been waiting for her in her kitchen with a bottle of red wine—that Gemma had hardly touched—and hadn’t left until way after midnight. Gemma hadn’t brought up Travis, still hoping he would take her up on her offer of a quiet annulment so no one would ever know what an idiot she was.

She got out of bed, dislodging her cat, Penny, who was sleeping on her back. The cat meowed at her, her eyes hardly opening, before curling up again on the quilt. Gemma showered and dressed, picking a simple polka-dot blouse and khakis. She didn’t even bother with her contacts; her eyes were still sore from sleeping in them the other night. When she finally made it out the door after dragging her butt, she had just enough time to get to The Local Bean for a white mocha and something really bad for her. Screw it, right? She could be good tomorrow.

She took the back roads into town and got stuck behind Justin Silverton on his daddy’s tractor. He’d pulled over enough that she could pass, and she honked and waved. In a town like Rock Canyon, if you were nice to the farmers, they’d be nice to you.

As she turned left on Main Street, and then into The Local Bean’s parking lot, her mouth started watering. Today was a Parmesan cheese bagel day. Or maybe a double chocolate chip muffin?

Gemma walked into the coffee shop and smiled at Gracie as she approached the counter. “Hey, honey.”

Gracie looked up from the newspaper she was reading and waved it at Gemma. “When I find out who this nosy wench is, I’m going to bodycheck her ass.”

Considering that Gracie was just over five feet and a hundred pounds soaking wet, Gemma grinned. “Really?”

Gracie shoved the paper under her nose. “Look! The woman thrives on causing trouble, but I am telling you one thing; I will have my revenge; a slow, painful, Emily Thorne–style revenge!”

Gemma laughed and read the new Small-Town Scandals column. The gossip column had shown up a few weeks earlier, and ever since the town had been a twitter over who Miss Know It All could be.

SEXUAL TENSION MOUNTS BETWEEN A CERTAIN BROODING BARTENDER AND OUR FAVORITE BARISTA . . . AGAIN.

Just when you thought it was safe to venture out to Buck’s Shot Bar for a little fun and libation, these two are at it again! Rumors have been circulating for months about whether Eric Henderson and Gracie Lou McAllister have something going on under the radar, and after Saturday night, folks, I think we all know the answer. When Miss McAllister showed up with the town’s very H-O-T new law enforcement agent, Officer Morgan, Eric looked like he had swallowed a gallon of curdled milk and was about to blow. It only took about ten minutes before he’d pressed all of Miss McAllister’s buttons and the two were standing toe to toe. I have to say, the sexual tension was so thick, I could have grabbed a spoon and made a meal out of it. Gracie ended up leaving in a huff, Officer Morgan trailing behind her like a sad little puppy, and Eric disappeared before closing time.