Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(53)

“Simmer down, drama mama, I was just saying that people like you and want to do something nice for you.”

“But it’s not real,” Gemma said, her voice barely above a whisper now that she’d drawn the attention of the whole shop. Several older ladies were leaning into each other, whispering, while they frowned at her, and Gemma almost frowned back. She was tired of everyone butting their noses into her business.

“Says who? You guys stood in front of an officiant and said your vows. I don’t care how drunk you were, part of you wanted to marry Travis or you wouldn’t have done it. And now he’s living in your house. Close quarters, sexual tension . . . it’s like a recipe for an explosion of white-hot desire and wild, butt-crazy monkey sex!” Gracie said.

There was already enough sexual tension without explosions, but Gemma didn’t want to get into that. Gracie might get the idea to butt her nose in to test her amateur matchmaking skills. There were enough cooks in her kitchen already.

“No. No monkey sex. No explosions. Things are calm and tension-free at my place.”

“Really? Why do I not believe you?”

Because my husband is sex on two legs?

“Look, can you just be supportive gal for a few minutes? I need your help,” Gemma said.

Gracie turned her neck from side to side, rolled her shoulders like a boxer, and clapped her hands. “Okay, supportive gal is here. What’s going on?”

“Travis offered to pay my bills for two weeks so I can take off from the shop and hang with Charlie and him.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Gracie said, but she stopped smiling at Gemma’s glare. “And the problem is . . .?”

“He hates me, and things are really weird with us. One minute we’re joking and it’s like nothing ever happened and the next he’s closed off and looking at me like I’m the villain in an Alfred Hitchcock movie,” Gemma said.

“Without the homicidal tendencies and the rotting corpse of your dead mother in a rocking chair,” Gracie deadpanned.

“Seriously, I don’t know how to make it better. How do I fix this?”

Gracie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “It’s gonna take time, Gemma, but he’ll forgive you.”

Gemma wasn’t so sure. He might make peace with her, and maybe they could be friends again, but could he ever really forgive her?

“And then there’s Mike . . .”

“Don’t worry about Michael; he’ll come around. Besides, I’ve got a feeling he’s going to be very busy coming up. Too busy to be mad at you,” Gracie said, standing up.

Gemma’s eyebrows jumped as she processed that. “You and . . . Michael?” Gemma asked, surprised.

“Of course not! Not me. Yuck.” She shuddered for emphasis and added, “Not that he isn’t a cutie, but I remember when he used to do that ramen-noodle nose thing . . . I still have nightmares. No, there’s a new veterinarian in town, and she’s a kick in the pants. I referred Michael to her to set up her computer, and he was all riled at me yesterday.”


“Why?” Gemma asked.

“I don’t know, something about almost being eaten by her cat; I wasn’t really listening. But she’s super cute, she’s available, and she’s got a rocking personality.”

“Are you playing matchmaker again?”

Gracie struck a pose. “Just call me cupid.”

Gemma finished the last bite of her fruit and stood up. “Thanks for listening.”

Gracie got up from the table and hugged her tight. “Everything will work out. I’m a firm believer in soul mates and happily ever after.”

Gemma sighed. “I wish I had your optimism.”

“Trust me, sweet cheeks. I know true love when I see it.” Gracie turned to walk away singing, “‘Matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match . . .’”

Gemma walked out of the shop shaking her head. Gracie really needed to stop concentrating on everyone else’s love life and find her own happily ever after. She was too romantic to be alone.



TRAVIS WOKE UP to Charlie’s face a few inches away from his, staring at him, and it took a second to remember where he was.

And that this boy is my son.

“Finally! I thought you were going to sleep all day. I do this to Mom sometimes and it wakes her right up, although she usually calls me a little beast. So, wanna go do something?”

Man the kid had more energy that any kid he’d ever met, which had been few and far between.

Shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Travis sat up. “Sure, let me just wake up for a minute. What do you want to do?”

Charlie bounced onto the bed next to him. “I don’t know. Mom left a note, saying she’d be home around one.”

Travis looked over at the clock. It was nine in the morning. No wonder he was tired. He had tossed and turned until around three, thinking about Gemma and how, despite everything she’d done and lied about, he still wanted her. Last night he couldn’t stop thinking about that afternoon in her hotel room, her warm mouth sliding over him, and . . . well, it had been a hard memory to shake.

How could she have slept with him without trusting him?

“Hello? Dad? Can we go?” Charlie said, breaking into his thoughts. He was still getting used to the fact that Charlie called him Dad with such ease.