Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(38)

Travis grinned before leaning down and giving her one last hard kiss, his hand cradling her cheek. “I’m good with that.”



TRAVIS WAS TRYING not to speed, but his eagerness to have Gemma in his arms was outweighing his good sense. He reached across the seat and took her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers.

“You know, if this were really our first date, I’d probably make you take me home,” she said, smiling at him in the dark.

He didn’t think that idea was funny in the least. “But technically, this is probably our hundredth date, and since we’re already married, I think it’s okay.”


“Oh, you do?” Her tone was teasing, and he heard the snap of her seat belt as she flipped up the console, creating a bench seat and felt her scooting over to nestle against his side. A few seconds later, she’d buckled herself back in and laid her head on his shoulder. “Do you remember sneaking out to the old barn on the Silvertons’ farm?”

He kissed the top of her head. “How could I forget? We climbed up into the hayloft—”

“Your idea.”

“Yeah, it was. And we started making out on the old straw—”

“Which smelled disgusting.”

“And then the hay started moving, and suddenly we were surrounded by a family of hissing possums.” His chest shook with laughter as he remembered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so much in my life!” Her laughter mingled with his, and she wrapped her arm around his waist. “God, I wanted to kill you for talking me into that.”

“But you didn’t,” he said softly, sliding his arm down to rest his hand on the curve of her hip.

“No, I didn’t. You could always get around me with those pretty blue eyes and that boyish, aw-shucks smile.”

His thoughts strayed to that night in Phoenix, when he’d told her nothing had happened. “Not always.”

Her body tensed against his, and he felt her head tip up. He glanced down from the road and caught her frown.

“In Phoenix, nothing I said would convince you that I didn’t betray you.” She let him go and started to scoot away, but he tightened his hold on her waist. “I’m sorry to bring it up. That wasn’t our agreement.”

“Its fine, Travis; we have a past. It was silly to try to pretend we don’t have issues to work out and things we need to handle before this gets any deeper.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he kept quiet.

“Maybe you should just take me to my car.” Her whispered suggestion made his guts tie up in knots. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to end, but he still had two more dates.

The car was quiet on the way to the lot at The Local Bean, where Gemma’s Subaru was parked. Travis got out of the truck and went to her side. When he opened her door, she said, “Look, Travis—”

“Stop. If you’re going to tell me this isn’t going to work, just stop.” She closed her mouth, and he put his hands on her waist to help her down, teasing, “The only thing I want you to tell me is how you can’t wait for our next date.”

“Travis, listen—”

“Why do I get the feeling you’re ignoring me?”

“Because you’re ignoring me!” she snapped.

“Okay, we’ll talk,” he said dropping his hands from around her waist. “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk, I just—”

“I have a son,” Gemma said softly.

It was the last thing he was expecting her to say, and he couldn’t deny that the confession stung. However, it wasn’t the end of the world, and it did explain her squirrelliness.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he smiled. “That’s great. What’s his name?”

“Charlie.”

That threw him a little. “That’s funny, ’cause Mike’s mentoring a kid named Charlie . . .” Travis stopped and frowned.

“Mike just said that because he knew I hadn’t told you yet.”

“He’s your son? But he looks like he’s—”

“He’s nine. Charlie’s nine.”

Travis was starting to think this was some kind of joke. Anger and hurt churned inside him as he processed her words. Mike had lied to him because . . . Charlie was his? But if that were the case, wouldn’t Gemma have married him? Mike had said he loved her, but she’d never felt that way.

He thought back to that picture of the smiling kid with curly brown hair and blue eyes . . .

Just like his.

“Who’s his father, Gemma?”

She looked up and met his gaze, and he knew the answer by the tears in her eyes.

“You are.”





Chapter Eleven




* * *





“HE’S MINE?” TRAVIS hissed, and Gemma saw his muscles shaking like he was about to erupt. His eyes were wild, and in the eerie streetlight, he looked almost purple. “Mine!”

Gemma winced at the harsh pain in his voice. “Yes, yours.”

“How?” His tone was biting, and she saw his jaw clench.

Gemma’s smile was nervous. “The usual way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his hands roughly driving into his hair until the short curls were mushed. She bit her lip, trying to fight down her flight response to his restrained anger. She had to face the music and deal with Travis or she’d just be proving her dad right.