Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars By Codi Gary
Dedication
To my awesome editor, Chelsey Emmelhainz:
Thank you for all you do to make me a better writer.
Just know your LOLs and love its make all the difference.
Chapter One
* * *
HOW MANY GLASSES of champagne did I have last night?
Gemma Carlson groaned, gritting her teeth against the stabbing pain that seemed to be spreading through her brain. She didn’t want to open her eyes, afraid of what she would see. Right now she was only sure of two things: one, her head hurt like a son of a bitch, and two, she was very, very naked.
Prying open her right eye, she tried to focus on her surroundings, but instead of seeing intricate, golden wallpaper, she found the walls were light-colored. A couch sat in the corner of this room; her room had a tiny office chair and desk. The landscape on the wall was new, too.
She opened both eyes, blinking rapidly at the dryness, and realized she had no idea where she was.
Which meant she obviously wasn’t in her hotel room.
A light snore behind her caught her attention and she stiffened, turning her head slowly to look at her bedmate. She sucked in a breath at the sight of dark curls and a broad back, the only things visible above the heavy comforter.
Travis.
What have I done?
Sitting up, she swallowed the rolling nausea and fought the splitting headache, catching her face in her hands. And then she felt it. Something cool and metallic on her finger. Something that definitely shouldn’t be there.
Pulling back her hands, she stared at the large, three-stoned diamond ring on her left index finger and froze.
Oh, f*ck.
22 hours earlier
GEMMA CARLSON WAS in heaven. Well, heaven for a twenty-eight-year-old single mom who hadn’t had a vacation in years. She’d spent a good chunk of her savings on a room in the beautiful O’Shea Hotel in Las Vegas to attend the Lovers of Romance Convention. As she walked past the large golden fountain in the lobby toward the elevator, she struggled with the two sacks of autographed books she’d managed to score at book signings. Now she could concentrate on her very important plans to order room service—probably a salad, followed by something sinfully dark and chocolatey—before heading out to the Kiss Awards. She was really looking forward to the big awards ceremony later that evening and had even brought a lovely black dress for the occasion. Not the elaborate ball gowns the award nominees would be wearing, but still pretty.
Afterward, she’d fill up the deep, claw-footed tub in her bathroom with some bubble bath and read one of her delicious new novels with a guaranteed happily ever after. The world was a shiny, perfect place.
Except it might be nice if a hot guy was waiting for me, ready to feed me calorie-free chocolate that actually tasted like the real thing.
Gemma shook her head at the thought. Her life worked too well for her to get involved with anyone, especially someone she picked up in a hotel bar. Besides, she could never have sex with a stranger; she was too paranoid from all the stories she read online about one-night stands gone wrong. And she had her son, Charlie, to think about.
So, if she wasn’t into casual sex, that left her with trying to meet someone, and honestly, she hadn’t been trying very hard. She’d barely dated in the last ten years because she was worried about how someone new would affect their lives. Besides, Rock Canyon was a small town, where everyone was up in everyone else’s business. She’d already felt awkward after one date with Charlie’s peewee football coach.
She stopped in front of the gold elevator doors, her fingers cramped and stiff as she set the bags at her feet. Flexing them, she reached out to press the up button and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited. She wanted to call Charlie to make sure he was having a good time at camp. It was the first time they’d ever been apart, and although she was enjoying the conference immensely, she missed her baby.
He’s not a baby anymore. He’s nine years old.
It was hard to imagine her sweet little baby, who had only been around six pounds at birth, was half-grown. In just a few years, he’d be in high school, dating and falling in love for the first time; God, just the thought of their first safe-sex talk was enough to make her wish he would never grow up. How do you explain safe sex when you got pregnant at seventeen?
Just make sure to use two birth control methods, honey. You never know when the condom’s going to break.
Not that she needed to be worrying about that now. So far, she’d been doing something right. Charlie was a vibrant, outgoing boy, and they were happy with it being just the two of them. Having him when she was basically a kid herself had been hard, but she’d done her best.
Still, time had gotten away from Gemma, and she was no longer the scared teen, struggling to make a life for herself and her newborn son. She was pushing thirty with a successful business, and her life was safe, secure, and . . . well, a little boring, actually. She concentrated on Charlie’s wants and needs so much, that she had little time for anything else.
Not this trip, though. This trip was about her. It was her one chance to be a little selfish and she was taking advantage of it. Charlie was at youth camp for another week, and while he was there, she was going to relax and get things done. When she got home tomorrow, the first order of business would be to tackle his closet. Who knew what kinds of things were growing inside it?
Whoa now, let’s not get crazy or anything.
Gemma ignored the sarcastic side of herself, the voice in her head that always made bad decisions. Ten years ago, that voice had suggested she trust Travis Bowers when he’d said he wanted to be with her, that they could make it work no matter what, even if he—an up-and-coming country music rock star—was on tour more often than not. That voice had also come up with the bright idea to surprise Travis in Phoenix, three weeks after he’d left Rock Canyon on his first tour. Only instead of telling him about the pregnancy, like she’d planned, she’d found him in his trailer with another woman. Despite his protests of innocence, Gemma had taken off . . . and never told him about Charlie.
A decision that had left her pregnant and alone.
She wouldn’t change a minute of it, though. Charlie was the best thing that had ever happened to her, so at least some good had come out of listening to the devil-may-care side of herself.
Not tonight, though. Tonight it was all about bubbles, books, and beautifully decadent desserts. It was her vacation, after all.
“Well, some things sure don’t change, do they? Are those books I see, Gemma?” A smooth male voice said next to her.
Gemma stiffened. It can’t be. No way, not in a million years could it be . . .
Turning, she pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, sure she was seeing things. “Travis?”
Good Lord, it is. Why? Why would fate pull such a painful joke on her? She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she had just been thinking of him and, like magic, he was there, smiling crookedly down at her. That smile sent her heart pumping into overdrive, and her stomach was so twisted in knots it was painful to breathe.
Gemma almost reached out to poke him, she was so sure he was a figment of her imagination.
Damn it, why had she wished for a hot guy to share her night with? Even though she’d been half-joking, there was no one in the whole wide world hotter than Travis Bowers.
All six and a half feet of him stood there: the deep blue eyes that sparkled at her as one brown curl fell boyishly over his forehead; wide shoulders covered by a blue-and-green-plaid shirt; jeans fitted just enough to show off long, muscular legs. His hands hung at his sides—hands she knew to be callused from years of work and playing guitar. Hands that could make her crazy with need. It had been ten years, but she could still remember what they felt like: rough and wonderful, sliding up and over her . . .
“So, can I get a hug?”
His question startled her, and she could feel the heat of a blush crawl over her skin. With only a moment’s hesitation, Gemma wrapped her arms around his lean waist and cuddled into him just like she used to, breathing in the smell of spicy cologne and Travis’s own warm scent. They fit together perfectly—although there was about thirty pounds less of her since the last time he’d held her.
In high school she’d been the chubby girl with a state-sized crush on the hot musician with the killer smile and drawling voice. She’d figured he only thought of her as his friend, the one he shared all of his innermost thoughts and dreams with. Still, just being in his life had been enough for her.
Until Travis’s senior prom. His date had bailed on him to get back together with her ex, and Travis had asked Gemma to go with him at the last minute. She’d been a junior, so excited, and the night had been magical.
And then Travis had kissed her, and everything had changed.
“It’s so good to see you, Gem.” The rough sound of his voice against her hair briefly brought her back. Despite the fact that he was still Travis, his voice seemed deeper, his arms resting on the small of her back were more powerful and pressed her body against his, a body that was definitely harder than it had been at nineteen.
She tried to fight the memories that came flooding back with the feel of Travis’s hand smoothing over her back, causing her eyes to burn with tears. Being held by Travis down by the river, cradled in his arms as the full Idaho moon beamed down on them, while he whispered, “I love you.” It had been like a fairy tale.
Except there hadn’t been a happily ever after for them. In the end, the prince had left the princess behind and gone off to become country music’s hottest bachelor, while the princess had stayed in the same small town and dreamed of a moment just like this one. Only in her dreams, the prince came back to find her; he didn’t just happen to run into her in a hotel lobby.
Not that she still held onto those old fantasies. Gemma was a grown woman now, not the fanciful girl with her head in the clouds. She was a successful, independent woman. She owned a little used bookstore, had a nice group of friends, and then there was Charlie . . .
She shouldn’t be doing this.
Not only was it not fair to Charlie, who’d never even met his father, but Travis didn’t deserve to have her melting all over him like the gooey girl she used to be. He’d stayed away for years without a single phone call and he wanted to act like they were just old friends? No. She had too much self-respect to let him think that all was forgotten and forgiven and they were going to act like he hadn’t wrecked her for longer than she was willing to admit.
Gemma pulled away from him and tried to act cool, even as he released her slowly, his hands leaving a heated trail across her waist that burned through her clothes. He shouldn’t be able to affect her still. He had broken her heart twice: once when she’d found him with that other woman and then again when he hadn’t come after her.
Maybe that water-under-the-bridge stuff would have worked for the teenaged, lovestruck girl she used to be, but she was nowhere near that forgiving now.
“It’s good to see you, Travis. If you’ll excuse me . . .”
He side-stepped her before she could even try to pick up her bags. “Whoa, what’s your hurry? No ‘hey, Travis, how you been?’”
He clearly wasn’t going to make escape easy.
“I said it was good to see you,” she said, reaching for her bags again.
“Yeah, but—”
“Fine,” she said, making sure the sarcasm was apparent under her candy-cane tone. “Well, hey, Travis. It’s been a long time. How are you?”
“Now, was that so painful? I’ve been great, Gemma,” he said, giving her back snark for snark. “About to start a tour break, which is—”
She bent down for her books again, but this time he reached out and took her hand. “Gemma, stop.”
His touch shouldn’t still have the power to reduce her to rubble, but the warm calluses sliding across her skin distracted her.
Forget about it. He could have picked up a phone in the last ten years, but he just went about his life. He doesn’t have the right to act hurt.
Jerking her arm away with more force than she intended, she snapped, “What do you want, Travis?”
He seemed to be struggling with his answer, so when the elevator dinged and the green-uniformed attendant asked, “Going up?” she grabbed her bags and fled inside.
Before the doors could close, though, Travis jumped on with her. “What are you doing here, besides buying a bookstore’s worth of romance novels?”
“What are you doing? Was it not clear by my practically running away from you that I’m not in the mood to catch up?” As an afterthought, she grumbled, “And there aren’t that many.”
“I think you underestimate my ability to pester. And you never told me why you were here.” The elevator traveled upward, stopping on her floor with a slight lurch, and he pushed, “I’m waiting.”
The elevator doors dinged open and she stepped out, the sound of his boots behind her making her teeth hurt, and she realized she was clenching her jaw. She opened her mouth a couple of times to relieve the tension.
“Let me help you with those,” he said, his hands grazing hers as he grabbed the handle of one of the bags.
“I have them, thanks,” she said, trying to shake off his hold.
“Why are you being so difficult? I know we left things badly in Phoenix, but this hostility is a little much, don’t you think?” he asked, his smile tight as he pulled the bag his way.
“I think it’s just fine.”
“Come on, Gemma, at least tell me what you’re doing here. We used to be friends, you know.”
“You are such a pain in the ass!” she nearly yelled, pulling a little harder on the book bag before letting go and answering, “I’m here for a book conference. Are you satisfied?”
“Not hard—”
He didn’t finish the sentence as the sound of ripping paper echoed down the hallway and the handle of the bag snapped, books scattering around his feet.
“Shit,” he said, staring down at the piles of books.
“Damn it, Travis,” she said, unlocking her hotel room and putting the doorstop down. “You always had to get your way, no matter how irritating you had to be. Now look what you’ve done. You bent some of them, and they were signed!”
Suddenly Gemma realized she was yelling at the prince of country music in the middle of a Vegas hotel hallway about books. Glancing around, she thanked her lucky stars that no one popped their heads out to see who the crazy woman was.
Kneeling down, she started gathering the books in her arms and carried them inside. When he tried to help, she said, “Don’t. Please.”
He put up his hands. It took her two trips to finish, with Travis watching all the while, waiting, she supposed, for her to stop and resume their conversation.
She needed to stay away from him, though, before all that blue-eyed charm melted the steel wall she had put up to keep him out of her heart.
God knew, Charlie used that same Bowers charm to get around her constantly. It wouldn’t take much for Travis to make her forget that they weren’t good for each other, but more importantly, his lifestyle definitely wasn’t good for their son.
“Good-bye, Travis. Good seeing you.”
“Come on, Gemma—”
She shut the door on him and leaned back against it, tears hovering on the edges of her eyes. She’d let her guard down for just a second downstairs, and maybe she had been a little harsh after, but letting Travis get even a tiny hook into her was a mistake she couldn’t afford to make.
Walking farther into the room, she picked up the phone and pushed one for room service.
Forget a salad. This is definitely a chocolate cake kind of day.
TRAVIS BOWERS, MULTIPLATINUM, award-winning country artist, was hot under the collar.
She had actually slammed the door in his face.
He could understand it from any other woman, but from Gemma, who had never been the kind to lose her temper or make a scene? It was like his world had taken a turn right into the twilight zone. Which would be another way to explain bumping into Gemma in, of all places, the City of Sin.
Who comes to Vegas for a book conference, anyway?
Gemma, apparently, and that one constant made him smile. Despite the fact that she was harsher than she had been a decade ago, Gemma’s love of books hadn’t changed. He could still picture the curvy girl with glasses and a sweet smile, looking up at him from the pages of whatever book she was reading, just for him.
He could understand a little disgruntlement on her part, but not to the Linda Blair–level he’d just witnessed. It wasn’t like their break up in Phoenix had been his fault. Like he’d told her at the time, that woman had snuck onto his tour bus; he hadn’t invited her.
He could still remember that night; climbing onto that bus and dropping his guitar case on the couch, pulling off his shirt as he headed for the back bedroom. All he’d wanted was a shower and a good night’s sleep, but when he’d opened the door, he’d found his publicist, Emily, lying across his bed.
He’d dropped his shirt in surprise and yelled at her to get out, but she’d just laughed at him. He hadn’t even had a second to process everything before someone was knocking on the door of the bus.
“Get dressed and get the hell off my bus. You’re fired.”
She’d screeched at his back as he’d closed the door and gone to see who was knocking. When he’d opened the door to find one of the security guards and Gemma, he had been so happy he’d forgotten about anything else but her.
Jumping down off the bus, he’d swept her up in his arms and inhaled her light vanilla scent. He still remembered how it had felt to kiss her after that three-month separation, her lips softening under his and her hands holding onto his shoulders.
“Isn’t this sweet?”
Those three little words had destroyed what should have been a happy reunion . Gemma had stiffened in his arms, pulling away to look over his shoulder, and when her hazel eyes had come back to his, they had shimmered with tears.
She hadn’t said a word at first, just turned to run. He’d chased her down and explained what happened, but she hadn’t believed him. Her distrust had stung, but still he’d pleaded with her not to go. In the end, she’d just walked away from him.
Travis didn’t beg. Ever. After living in eight foster homes and spending his childhood fighting for anything he wanted, he’d learned begging got you nothing but heartache and disappointment. You didn’t need anyone who didn’t want you.
The only exception had been Gemma, and she had left him fighting not to cry in a crowded parking lot over ten years ago.
He should walk away and forget about it now, but holding Gemma again, just for a minute, had had him tied up in knots. He couldn’t leave things this way. He had to clear the air.
Maybe if he did that, he could forget her for good.
Not a day went by that Travis hadn’t passed a woman who smelled like her, hadn’t turned to check for sure that it wasn’t Gemma. That he hadn’t played the song he wrote for her, hadn’t seen her face in the crowd, clear as day, only to realize he’d imagined it.
Maybe he could finally throw away the old picture of their trip to Stanley that he kept taped inside his guitar case, taken just a few weeks before he’d left on his first tour.
Whatever her issue was, he was going to get to the bottom of it. Even if he had to sit outside her door all day and night, he wasn’t leaving until she explained exactly what he’d done to piss her off. Maybe then he could fall asleep without the sound of her voice haunting him.