Octo BEAR fest (Renaissance Shifters #1)

Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

T he only thing better than performing was sex, and in the high after coming off stage, Gwen was never even sure about that. She had to look to make sure her feet were still on the ground, and after exchanging hugs with Ripley and the other members of the house band, she wasn't sure any of them were still earth-bound. "That was a great show," she said to all, and each of them. "Playing with you guys was an honor. Thank you so much."

The bassist, a long-haired guy in his sixties, gave her a laconic nod, and the drummer and keys player, both closer to her own age, grinned and bumped shoulders but weren't beside themselves about playing with her. That was fine: this was their job, and Gwen was just another lead singer. She knew that, and so did they.

So, technically, did Ripley, but they were still vibrating with joy and excitement, because—and Gwen knew this , too—this was the biggest gig they'd ever done. The biggest star they'd ever performed with.

It was funny, Gwen thought, that she could be run of the mill and star of the show all at the same time. That was what kept her balanced, she figured. The people who were overwhelmed by getting to share a stage with her were evened out by the ones who thought it was just another day on the job. She grinned, hugged Ripley again, said, "See you tomorrow," and headed out, her heart leaping at the thought of Bill Torben waiting at the stage door for her. She'd had a lot of guys wait for her, over the years, and she could tell a lot about how the relationship would go from the first glimpse she had of them after a show.

Not that she was in a relationship with Bill. Or expecting to be in one. She was only in Renaissance for the weekend. Gwen almost literally kicked herself, reminding herself of that, but the reminder felt flat and disappointing. "Woo, girl," she said beneath her breath as she pushed the stage door open. "You got it bad!" There were worse things than a weekend crush, though.

Bill Torben, all six and a half feet of him, was right there at the stage door, putting a hand on it, well above Gwen's head, to control how far it opened, to give her a chance to gauge the crowd and, clearly, to make sure they couldn't surge forward and push her back inside the building, or up against the closing door if she stepped out too fast. He held it effortlessly, although she could see the muscles in his arm at play, and when she lifted her eyes to his face, it was to find a small, awed smile on the big man's face, and a softness in his eyes that she'd never seen in a man before. He breathed, "You were incredible, " and then, just as quietly, added, "There are about twenty people out here. How do you want to play this?"

Oh, this was one hell of a weekend crush.

The rush of voices calling her name, squealing with excitement, cheering, all the sounds that she was used to at a stage door finally came in, as if Bill's very presence had blocked them out, giving her a little space just to be herself in. Gwen's heart contracted hard again and she gave him what felt like an unusually tentative smile. "I can sign things or do selfies, but only if they can line up and be polite. Do you think you can get them to do that?"

He winked, then, without releasing his incredibly strong grip on the door, turned his head to address the crowd in a startlingly deep, crisp, commanding voice. "Ms. Booker is prepared to sign albums and take selfies, but only if everyone calms down, lines up, and keeps their hands to themselves like decent, polite human beings. If you can't do that…"

Bill was a huge man anyway. He did something—took a breath, squared his shoulders, something— that made him look about three times his size, and his voice dropped another half octave. "If you can't do that, I'll be escorting Ms. Booker to her vehicle and nobody is going to bother her."

Beyond the stage door, someone audibly squeaked, and Gwen could see a quick shuffling of bodies as people rearranged themselves and quieted down. After a moment, Bill gave a firm nod and let the door open farther, revealing two tidy lines of wide-eyed fans, some clutching albums, some with their phones lifted, somebody with a Sharpie and their arm bared to be signed, all of them looking like nervous first-graders who had been promised ice cream after school if they could just be quiet while in line. At the very end of the line, a few people were still arranging themselves in what looked like a 'you-go-first, no-you-go-first, no-you-i-insist' kind of disagreement of who could be politest, but they got themselves sorted out as Gwen bit down on a giggle.

"Amazing," she announced to all of them. "This is incredible. I need you guys to come to every stage door and teach other people how to line up politely like this."

They did giggle, and for the next few minutes Gwen was busy signing, giving hugs, and getting selfies. Bill moved down the line with her, doing an incredible job of staying out of the way while also being an absolutely unmistakable Presence that no one wanted to risk messing with. A few more people came out of the club before she reached the end of the line, and she signed things for them, too, but grimaced faintly as a larger group came out, their voices incredibly loud and somewhat inebriated-sounding as they echoed off the parking lot concrete. One of them shouted as they glimpsed Gwen, who braced herself, but Bill seemed attuned to every nuance of her body language and murmured, "Go ahead and go to your car, if you want. I'll be right behind you," before planting himself firmly between Gwen and the drunken group.

Gwen, glancing over her shoulder as she headed for the Chevy, saw a bunch of the oncoming crowd visibly deflate and give up after one look at Bill's large self blockading the easiest path to her. A few, more determined or more intoxicated, approached him, but as she got in the Chevy she noticed none of them went past him. It was like he was so big the idea of going around just didn't cross their minds. She grinned, turned the engine on, and waited the minute or two it took him to dissuade the smaller group. To her surprise, they didn't look at all pissy when he left them and came to get in the car with her. "What'd you say to them?"

Bill stretched his legs as best he could into the footwell. "That my fist was bigger than most of their faces and that they were welcome to try, if they wanted."

Gwen gave him a shocked look and he laughed. "No. I reminded them you'd be playing at the Thunder Bear all weekend and they had plenty of chances to meet you if they wanted to come to the other shows. I don't think I've physically threatened anybody since I was a linebacker in high school, and that was all action, not talk."

"Oh, so you're a man of action," Gwen purred, and to her delight, Bill Torben blushed again as she drove out of the parking lot. "You're a man of blushing, anyway."

"I've blushed more since I met you than in the past five years," Bill announced with a sense of outraged dignity. "It's you. You're affecting me."

"Is it okay if I like the sound of that?"

"Yeah." His voice softened enough to send a thrill through Gwen. "Yeah, it's great if you like the sound of that. You, ah. Mm. This has been an interesting day, with you. Better than I would have expected. And my God, Gwen. You were incredible up there on stage." His tone changed completely, from that low softness to pure pleased astonishment. "I can't believe you're not playing stadium tours."

An unexpected twist tightened Gwen's stomach, making nausea swim in her belly. She tried to swallow it down and fought for a smile. "Maybe some things aren't meant to be."

"I can't believe that."

"I can," Gwen said a little too sharply, and from the corner of her eye, caught Bill's concerned, interested glance. She braced herself for the inevitable questions, but to her surprise, after a few seconds, he only said, "You would know more about it than I do," and let it go, adding, "So what's the deal with the Impala? I was expecting a van."

"Ah." Gwen cleared her throat. "I had a crush on a tv character and when the Impala came up for sale I couldn't resist."

Bill laughed. "So the van life is a lie?"

"No, I do have one," she admitted. "I use it for longer tours, because living out of an Impala sucks. But this is just a weekend, and it's not a long drive, so I thought I'd live it up."

"Where are you from, anyway? Turn up there, the one way street gets us home faster than going back the way we came."

Gwen flicked the turn signal on. "I'm from Seattle, but I live in Denver."

"Really?" Bill gave her another startled look. "I didn't know you were that close."

"It's a good city to live in if you want to travel a lot of places. I do drive if I'm going on a tour, but if I've got a weekend gig, the airport can get me just about anywhere."

"So you're close enough we could—" Bill audibly broke off, then chuckled. "Drive out to see your gigs there. You play in clubs there, I assume?"

"At a few of them, yeah. I'll keep you posted if you want. Hey, I didn't say thanks for handling the fans back there at the Harlequin. If you ever need a new job as a door guy, I…totally can't pay you for that. Damn."

Bill laughed as they reached the Thunder Bear parking lot. "How could I refuse an offer like that? I'll be your door guy for the weekend, at least. I'm feeling optimistic," he admitted. "Total turnaround from when you blew in this afternoon. Oh, God, I didn't mean it like that."

"Are you sure?" Gwen parked the Impala and grinned at him. "Because you looked like your worst nightmare had just walked through the door."

"My face is a liar, then. I thought you were the most overwhelmingly cool person I'd ever seen." Bill puffed his cheeks out and gazed through the windshield at the pub. "But also, yes, kind of my worst nightmare, when I was expecting a little old white-haired lady with a jazz band. Oh, no. Did you get checked into the hotel? They were expecting Brooker, not Booker."

"I haven't even tried," Gwen said, surprised. "I came here first to check out the venue and then things went crazy."

Bill made a face. "Sorry. But at least I can call and let them know I had the name wrong. It's three rooms under your name? Well, Gwendolyn Brooker's name?"

"Yeah, my bassist and keys are a couple, and Penny says Sandy doesn't snore so she doesn't mind sharing with her."

"Implying you do snore?"

Gwen snickered. "Myles and Gemma say I don't, but when we've all crashed in the van a couple times on long trips Penny does sleep really badly, so either being on her own or sharing with somebody quiet is better for her. Not that any of that matters to you." Gwen smiled at him. "Tomorrow's going to be fine, Bill. The whole weekend is going to go well. Okay?"

"I'm starting to believe it." He took out his phone and called the hotel, correcting the name it was booked under, then hung up and nodded. "You're good to go. So we'll see you, what, tomorrow evening?"

"Oh, no. The band should show up around two and I'll be there to meet them, so that's the absolute latest I'll be there. You should expect me bright and early, though. I bet we can get some more promo done in the morning." She wrinkled her noise. "Okay, let me backtrack that. 'Bright and early' has certain limitations when you're used to performing until midnight and staying up a few hours after that because you're on an adrenaline rush."

Bill made a show of looking at his phone to see the time. "Well, it's only eleven thirty now, so you shouldn't be up past two, right? I'll expect you by eight a.m."

Gwen couldn't even pretend not to look horrified. Bill burst out laughing. "I was going to say six, but eight was obviously terrible enough. I'll see you when you get here, okay? This was a great evening, Gwen. Everything else aside, I haven't been out to a club like that in years, and I think it was really good for me. Thank you."

He hesitated, studying her, and Gwen's heartbeat quickened again. Before she could break the stalemate and lean in to kiss him, he ducked his head, said, "Good night," and left her to drive off to her hotel alone.