Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(37)

“I’m a swell guy, what can I say?” he said.

“But, again, karaoke? Not the most relaxing of dates.”

“Nonsense.” Travis grinned as he opened up the passenger door of the truck and helped her out. “Singing releases endorphins, which make us happy, relaxed individuals.”

Gemma looked at the front of the bar’s window doubtfully, taking in the glowing KARAOKE sign. “I think singing makes some people happy, but I don’t think standing up in a room full of people is going to make me happy.”

He took her hand and led her to the front door. “I promise, if you really aren’t having any fun, we’ll leave, but I think you’re gonna love it.”

“Says the man who does it for a living,” she muttered as they passed the bouncer, a thick man with a full beard who gave Travis a double take.

The bar was barely half full, and up on stage a skinny woman was trying her damnedest to sing “Any Man of Mine” but was so hammered she kept missing the lyrics. Gemma swallowed hard as Travis sat her down at a table.

“Want a drink?”

She looked from the stage to him. “If you want me to get up there, better give me a double of everything.”

His laughter trailed behind him as he walked up to the stage first, talking to the stacked blonde who looked like a six-foot-tall Dolly Parton. With a grin, he went to the bar to grab drinks. Her heart did a double-decker twist when he looked over at her with a smile, and she tried to calm down.

She didn’t sound bad singing in the shower, but up in front of strangers was different. When Mike, Gracie, and she went to Hank’s Bar on karaoke night, it was usually to heckle everyone else, although Gracie had no qualms about getting up and belting one out. Gracie, however, had also been in numerous musicals in high school and college.

Travis came back with a couple of shots and a beer.

Gemma took a shot without asking if it was hers, holding it to her lips before tipping it back. The burning alcohol singed her throat as she set down the glass, and Travis eyeballed her with a smirk, scooting the other shooter her way.

“Aren’t you drinking?” she asked before she took the shot.

“Just the beer. I’m driving and you’re singing.”

She made a face at him just as a raspy voice called over the speakers, “Gemma Bowers?”

Gemma started choking at the use of her new, married name, and Travis laughed as she tried to get her fit under control.

Standing up, she glared at him. “Why did you tell her that?”

“’Cause it’s your name, and I have the marriage license to prove it.”

The real-life Barbie called her name again, and Gemma walked toward the stage with lead feet. When the woman handed her the microphone, she winked at Gemma in a friendly manner. “Have fun.”

Yeah, not freaking likely. As she turned to face the crowd, the microphone in her hand, bile rose in her throat.

The music started, and as Gemma looked at the karaoke screen, she wanted to hit Travis over the head with a beer bottle. Mr. Funny Man had picked “Last Name” by Carrie Underwood.

She stumbled over the first line, more of a mumble than actual singing, and she heard someone shout, “Louder!”

It had to be Travis. No one else would care how loud she was.

Raising her voice, she sang, “‘And I got a little crazy.’”

“Yeah!” another voice called out, and Gemma grinned. With a gentle swing of her hips, she was starting to move with the beat of the music. More catcalls came as she walked over to the stage pole and pointed to it as she sang. When the crowd cheered, she put her back to it, sliding down as she reached the chorus.

By the time she finished the song, her face hurt from smiling so hard, and she handed back the microphone with a breathless, “Thank you.” Travis stood at the edge of the stage and, without thinking, she reached out to him. He swung her down and against him, and she held on tight, her arms around his shoulders.

His lips grazed her neck as he whispered, “Are you relaxed yet?”

Gemma felt warm and safe in the circle of his arms and snuggled closer. “Hmmm, I could be more so.”

Without another word, he took her hand and led her out of the bar to the truck, his long legs moving so fast, she had to run to keep up. Between the dancing on stage and his quick stride, she couldn’t catch her breath.

“Slow down.”

He stopped along the side of the truck and pulled her into him, his mouth covering hers, his tongue pushing between her lips and plunging inside. With a moan, she threaded her fingers around the back of his neck, pressing her body against his so tightly that she could feel the hard muscles of his stomach against her. Nipples tightening, she rubbed them against him, back and forth, trying to ease the discomfort.

Suddenly, he was pulling away from her but still holding her close. “If I don’t stop, I’m going to push you against the truck and take you.”

Gemma’s stomach flopped while her center tightened, the roughness of his words making a small part of her hope he’d do what he threatened.

I am going to hell.

Here she was again, letting her hormones get the best of her, but her body was tight with adrenaline, and besides, he’d said they could do some light petting . . .

Footsteps and loud conversations broke the spell, and Gemma pushed away. “Maybe we should take this date somewhere else?”