Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars(66)

“I’m not sure, but Mrs. Andrews—”

The door behind her opened, and Gemma turned with relief to find Charlie, Travis, and Annie coming in. Charlie held up a pastry box and yelled, “Look, Mom! Doughnuts!”

“So I see,” Gemma said, her gaze moving to Travis, who looked deliciously rumpled. He must have just thrown on his clothes and left with their son.

Charlie opened up the doughnut box and started to dig in.

“Don’t you have something to say to Mrs. Andrews?” Gemma reminded him.

“Hi, Mrs. Andrews. Do you want a doughnut? We’ve got extra,” Charlie said, setting the box on the table.

“No thank you, Charlie, I’m fine,” she said, and focused her attention on Travis. “Travis, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Mrs. Andrews is helping us plan the reception the town is throwing for us. Isn’t that nice?” Gemma said, her voice strained, hoping he would take the hint to behave. Travis had always hated Mrs. Andrews, and it would be just like him to say something to offend her.

“Oh, really?” Travis said coolly.

Panic welled up in Gemma like a volcano erupting. Rushing over to take the white coffee cup from his hand, she stood up on her tiptoes and gave him a hard kiss on the mouth.


“Be nice,” she whispered against his lips. She pulled away and slipped her arms around his waist, mouthing, Please.

Travis’s lips kicked up into a smile as he slid his hand down to where the older woman couldn’t see and squeezed Gemma’s butt, making her jump.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Andrews?” Travis asked, pretending he hadn’t just groped her with not only their son present but also the leader of several local groups, including MAMI (Mothers Against Moral Ignorance).

Gemma breathed a sigh of relief until he leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered, “You owe me.”

A rush of heat suffused her body as she took his meaning and went to a very dirty place with it, rubbing at her cheeks to hide her blush.

“Mom, can I have a doughnut now?” Charlie begged, hopping from foot to foot.

Travis released her to go sit down, and Gemma turned all her attention on Charlie. The last thing she wanted was him listening in and getting excited when she wasn’t sure whether this whole reception thing was going to happen. “Sure, honey. Why don’t you eat, and then take Annie outside to play? Your dad and I need to talk to Mrs. Andrews.”

“’Kay,” he said, and attacked the pastry box like a starving wolverine.

“September fifteenth,” Gemma heard Travis say from behind her.

“What’s September fifteenth?” Gemma walked over to sit next to him on the couch.

“When I have a weekend off from my tour,” Travis answered before taking a sip of his coffee.

“And . . .?”

“That’s the soonest Travis would be available for the reception,” Mrs. Andrews said, filling in the blanks.

Gemma frowned. “You said you were here for two weeks . . . when does your tour pick up?”

“I’ve got to be in Sacramento next Friday,” Travis said.

In her head, Gemma calculated the weeks separating the dates. “So you leave on the eighth of August. You’ll be back to see us before September, right?”

“Well, yeah, I’m going to try. Sometimes Big George schedules interviews and charity events, though, so I’ll have to see what he has going on,” Travis said, watching like he was waiting for her to combust.

So we take a backseat to your schedule?

Gemma was trying not to overreact, but she couldn’t help feeling a little irritated. Did he think they were going to be the only ones to make concessions and compromises? That he wouldn’t have to lighten his work schedule a little if he really wanted this to work?

Take a breath and give the trial courtship a chance.

There was no use making waves if she wasn’t sure she wanted to swim.

“That will actually work out fine, Travis,” Mrs. Andrews said, jotting down some notes. “That gives us a little over a month to plan and organize. Now, Gemma, which of these invites do you like?”

Gemma tried to focus on the handmade invitations, but her vision had blurred. “Um . . . I think I like the one on the left.”

“Excellent, that was the one I was hoping you’d pick. Now . . .” Mrs. Andrews started to hold up something else.

“You know what, would you mind excusing me? I slept in my contacts and they’re really hurting,” Gemma said, setting her coffee on the table and getting up to leave the room.

“Gemma . . .” Travis started, but she didn’t stop until she’d made it upstairs to the sanctuary of her bedroom and had wiped at her tears.

Locking the door, she went into the bathroom to take out the contacts, which really were bothering her, and hopped into the shower, hoping the hot water would clear her head.

I have to get it together and stop being such a crybaby. Travis said he wanted to make this marriage work. I just have to tell him what I need.

Stupid, smart voice, making everything sound so easy.



AFTER SPENDING AN hour going over reception details with Mrs. Andrews, Travis was ready to impale himself on the fireplace poker. Thank God Gemma finally came back downstairs, looking refreshed, although she still wouldn’t meet his eye.