Page 19 of OctoBEARfest

A shy titter rushed through the little group and at least two of them mumbled apologies as they all scurried toward the table she'd pointed at. Gwen took a breath, squaring her shoulders, and glanced up to see Bill gazing down at her with awe in his dark eyes. "You don't need a bodyguard, do you?"

"Welllllll…." Gwen laughed and shook her head. "Not with half a dozen kids barely old enough to be in the club, no. Not with most fans, really. They're usually eager but well-meaning. It's when they get too freaked out to remember I'm a person too, that it gets to be a problem. But I tell you what, having six and a half feet of backup does nothurtwhen you tell people to go overthere and wait for you. C'mon, they're settled down now, so we can go over." She did, joining her fans at a table and swinging a chair around to sit on it backward, and beamed at their excited faces. "Thank you for being here. This is a totally off-the-cuff thing before the gigs at the Thunder Bear Brewpub this weekend and I wasn't sure if anybody was going to show up!"

A wall of protestations met her self-deprecation, and for the next half hour or so she chatted, signed things, took selfies, and was very aware of Bill Torben's big, reassuring presence at her back as more people came in, realized she was there, and came to have a moment with her themselves. Eventually she clapped her hands together and rose, smiling at everybody. "Look, I promised I'd help set up so the house band didn't think I was a total bitch, so I'm gonna go get started with that. It was amazing to meet all of you!"

Voices chorused excited goodbyes, and Gwen felt the warmth of Bill's hand at the small of her back as he ushered her away, murmuring, "You're really good at that."

"I've been doing it half my life," she replied. "It's not hard, but it's nice to have somebody at my back. You make me feel really safe."

By then they were at the stage, and Bill took a moment to look down at her before she left him. "It's all I want," he said. "I want you to be safe and happy."

Gwen's heart fluttered and she ducked her head, blushing, before she looked back up at him with a smile. "Well, you've got the pub to think of, too, so maybe it's notallyou want, but thanks, big man. That makes me feel good." She vaulted up on stage before she risked something silly like kissing him, and dared a look over her shoulder as she strode toward the wings.

Bill Torben was watching her like she reallywasall he wanted in the world. Gwen's heart fluttered again, and insteadof scolding herself, she decided to use that feeling as she went to play the role of rock star.

CHAPTER 12

Bill had really wanted to pick Gwen up and put her on the stage, like he'd taken her down earlier. He barely stopped himself, mostly because he was aware of her fans—herfans, because she was arock starwho lived in a whole different stratosphere than he did—were watching, and he didn't know how fast they would spread gossip on the internet. He was, however, sure that they would, if they watched their idol being lifted onto the stage by a guy who was supposed to be her bodyguard.

Bodyguards, though, didn't want to make sure their wards were safe and happy beyond anything else in the world. Safe, maybe, but not necessarily happy. And Bill had meant that. He'd throw the whole pub over if it meant keeping Gwen both safe and happy.

For now, however, he was pretty sure looming at the stage's edge wasn't helpful to her, so he backed off, trying to find somewhere that he could both see and wouldn't block everybody else's line of sight. He eventually backed himself into a corner and stood hunched, as if there might be someone in the wall behind him, watching as the club began to fill.

There were alotof people. If they could get a third of these numbers at the pub over the weekends, and even a fifth of them over the week, they'd be beating business off with a stick. Bill shook his head. He knew a club was a different kind of scene from a pub, but maybe Gwen was right, and they needed to try catering to a different crowd. The Thunder Bear had passed down to a new generation. Maybe it was time for the clientele to change, too.

"Hey. Bill." Mike Piccolo, his silver hair gleaming different colors in the club's changing lights, appeared at Bill's side and tilted his head toward the stage. "Come on, I've got you VIP seating up at the front."

"Oh, no, I'm too big. People can't see over me. Thanks, though."

The older man smiled, although there was a surprisingly steely look in his eyes. "Maybe people can't see over you, but Gwen can't seeyouif you're lurking back here in the corner."

"I don't think that's a problem?"

"Young man," Mike said with the authority of someone who was his parents' friend, "that girl is here to try to helpyourpub do well this weekend. It's obviously good for her if the gigs go well, but the talent doesn't go to this kind of trouble for anybody unless they really want to. She invited you to see her perform tonight, didn't she?"

Bill, feeling inexplicably guilty, nodded, and Mike's gaze got steelier. "So make sure she can seeyouseeing her perform, and get your big ass down to the VIP seating."

"My ass," Bill said in an attempt at injured dignity, "isn't proportionately big." But he went, slinking toward the VIP booth that turned out to have aReservedsign on it, and his name scrawled on a piece of paper on the table. It turned out Mike had thought about where to put him, though, because the booth, while elevated, was also off to one side and had relatively littlespace behind it, so there wouldn't be all that many people crowding around and trying to see past him. Somehow that genuinely made him feel better, and he found himself suddenly looking forward to the performance in a way he hadn't been just a minute or two earlier.

Which was ridiculous, since he wasn't any less eager to see Gwen sing. But he slowly realized that hiding in the back hadn't made him feel like he waspartof the evening, and this VIP seat, where he could see clearly—and where Gwen would be able to see him—made him feel like he belonged.

Bill wasn't actually sure when he had last really felt like hebelongedsomewhere. Maybe when he'd still been working the Renaissance Faires with his brothers. He knew it wasn't that he didn't belong, or in some way wasn't welcome at the pub. It was just…that was work. He wasnecessarythere, but somehow that didn't feel quite the same as belonging there.

The stage lights suddenly went down, bringing an unexpected—to Bill, at least—cheer from the crowd, which had filled up the club pretty comfortably already. People moved closer to the stage, anticipation flooding the air, and he couldn't help smiling. It had been years since he'd been at a gig anywhere other than the pub. To his surprise, he was already enjoying it.

There was movement on the stage, easily visible to his shifter-enhanced dark vision. Bears were particularly adept at picking out movement in the dark, too, so he was able to watch Gwen swagger on stage, absolutely certain of herself even in the darkness. The crowd could see, or sense her, as well, and another cheer went up before the lights burst back on and there was Gwen Booker, rock star, standing in the spotlight.

This time the roar made Bill laugh, and his bear sat up warily, wondering if that huge sound was another bear, or some other kind of threat.It's just everybody appreciating Gwen,Bill told it, and got a tremendous sense of satisfaction from the animal.

Everyoneshouldappreciate our mate.It settled back down, trusting Bill's comfort, and he, in turn, leaned forward, drawn to Gwen's.

She yelled, "Hello, Renaissance!" and over the shouted greetings in response, added, "Hello,Harlequin!" That time the cheers drowned her out, or would have, if she'd been doing anything but grinning. God, she was beautiful, Bill thought. Not just beautiful. Magnetic. He couldn't imagine anyone being able to take their eyes off her, even if she was only standing there grinning at them all. "All right!" she called. "It's really early for a jam, and the house band and me, we've never played together before, so look, you all are just gonna have to put up with listening to our warmups, all right?"

Another roar met the question, and by that time, Bill was almost laughing with pleasure. The crowd was so happy to see her, and Gwen herself was obviously thrilled to be there. Someone yelled the name of a song as a request, and she sauntered down to the stage's lip to stare into the crowd as if they'd been rude. "Really?Really?Is that how you think it's gonna go? We're gonna come up here, never having played together before, and takerequests?"

The same voice said, "Yes?" hopefully, and Gwen burst out laughing.

"All right, all right, let's see what we can do, but hey, don't get cocky, okay? What's your name? Rudy? Listen, Rudy, we got a real set list and everything, like we know what we're doing, and you can't be out there just pretending this whole thing is a private audience just for you." She walked back up the stage, dropping the mic she'd been carrying down to her hip, and leaned into say something in the guitarist Ripley's ear. They laughed and nodded, and she went to the other people on stage—a long-haired bassist, a keyboardist, and a drummer—speaking to them, too. Whatever she said made them laugh as well, andthen with a nod she returned to center stage and the spotlight, pointing at the person who'd made the request. "Okay, just this once, Rudy, this one's for you."

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