Page 49 of Good Girls Don't Date Rock Stars (Rock Canyon, Idaho 2)

Wayne’s face flushed. “Shithead. Just ’cause you sucker punched me doesn’t make you some kind of hero.”

“Wayne!” Eric yelled from behind the bar. “I warned you what would happen if you started shit in my bar.”

Walter, the weaker of the two, blurted out, “We’re just talking, Eric.”

“Yeah, we were just saying hey to our old buddy, Travis,” Wayne said. “We won’t start anything.”

Eric glared but kept cleaning the glass in his hand. Travis shook his head. He could handle whatever Wayne Coulter dished out.

“Hey, Kirsten,” Walter said, eyeing the flashy blonde. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Kirsten sat down across from Travis. “Sorry, Walt. I was just talking to Travis.”

Travis caught Walter’s disappointment and would have felt bad for him if he didn’t know what a little snake he could be.

“So, how long are you in town for, Bowers?” Walter asked.

“Not sure yet,” Travis said.

“Gonna go see your old friend Gemma?” Wayne sneered, and Travis stiffened at his tone.

“Already seen her,” Travis said.

“She really looks good now that she lost all that baby weight,” Kirsten said casually, and Travis shot her a dark look.

“Better than you remember, right? I mean, I never minded the extra meat on her, just more cushion . . .”

Travis stood up and grabbed Wayne by the collar. “Do not say another fucking word.”

Wayne threw up his hands and said,

“Whoa, man, I was just saying she got better after high school, that’s all.”

“Do not look at, speak to, or talk about my wife again,” Travis growled.

“Wife?” The Coulter brothers and Kirsten gasped.

Travis let Wayne go and said, “Yeah, wife. So do us both a favor and don’t give me a reason to kick your ass again.”

Travis grabbed his bottle of Jack, planning on heading back to the motel to sleep, but he should have known that Wayne Coulter was still as stupid as he’d been in high school.

“So, why’d it take you ten years to marry her, Bowers? Is it because she’s finally a stone cold fox, or ’cause you found out about your bastard kid?”

Without thinking about the consequences, Travis transferred the bottle to his left hand and turned on Wayne Coulter. With the full force of his rage behind his right fist, Travis broke his nose. Again.

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

GEMMA’S PHONE RANG at six in the morning, and she picked up the horrible screeching contraption with a gravelly, “Hello?”

“Gemma, its Sam at the police station.”

The words permeated through Gemma’s sleepy haze. “Hey, Sam. What’s going on?”

“Well, see, we got your husband down in the drunk tank, and I need you to come get him.”

Gemma sat up with a snap. “My what?”