Page 25 of OctoBEARfest

It set Gwen off again, and he couldn't blame her. "Is there a trash can out here? No way am I sending you back inside. They'd want to know what happened and then they'd tease you until the heat death of the universe, and we don't have time for that, so…how can a pub not have outdoors trash cans?" she added after glancing around.

"We do. They're just up on the deck."

"No, no, they'll see you if you go up there, too. Fine, get in the car." She crawled to her feet, still grinning hugely, and went around to open the passenger side door for him. "Don't get cream cheese all over the place, those seats are leather."

Bill sat carefully but froze again at that warning, feeling like a huge ungainly lunk. Gwen leaned in, murmured, "Safety first," and pressed right up against him as she buckled his seatbelt for him. Then from right there, she flashed another sudden brightand very wicked grin, almost against his mouth. "Oh, man, if it weren't daylight and in front of your actual family's pub, I could have arealgood time with this."

The only thing that saved him from an instant raging erection was that only half the blood in his body flooded to his groin. The rest of it shot to his face, his blush hot enough that he thought it was actually melting the frosting on Gwen's cheeks. "Ooh," she murmured, still up close. "I think he likes it. Note to self: the big man might be into not being allowed to touch."

Then she withdrew, closed the car door firmly, and went around to the driver's seat while Bill was still trying to scrape enough brain cells together to decide what he thought of that idea. His blush was apparently fading, because his cock was getting harder, which seemed to be a solid answer to the proposal. He spluttered faintly as she slid into the car, and she gave him another bright, wicked grin. "Good news is the hotel is only a couple blocks away. You'll be able to throw those away in a minute. Although," she said, widening her eyes, "given that I'm covered in sticky white goo maybe you better hold on to them until we're in my room."

Bill slithered as far as he could down into the seat and groaned. "Ilivein this town."

"And when was the last time anybody gossiped about you? We'll give them a whole show this weekend," Gwen promised, and he was still trying to decide if that was a good or a bad thing when they got to her hotel.

To his relief, and her obvious huge amusement, there didn't happen to be anybody at the reception desk when they went in. He dumped the cinnamon rolls in the nearest trash can, blurting, "I can wait down here."

Gwen gave him a dubious look. "You could, but it'll be easier to clean up in my room. All the bathrooms in the lobby need keys, and the longer I stay down here the more likely somebodyis to see me and get the wrong idea. Ah, there he goes, now." Bill was halfway to the elevators before she'd finished pointing out the flaws in his plan, and four floors later, she let him into what turned out to be a rather nice hotel suite. "Yeah," she said, watching him glance around in admiration, "you've put me up in style. And I appreciate it. Go wash your hands," she added with amusement, and he fled into the bathroom to do just that.

It took considerably more effort to get the sticky cinnamon roll residue off his hands than he expected, and their scent lingered despite the orange-sandalwood soap. He came out, hands dry but sniffable: his bear's nose was twitching and it was making him hungry. "That hotel soap smells amazing. Especially if you add cinnamon to it."

"Oooh, can I smell?" Gwen reached for his hand, then pulled hers back, looking embarrassed again. "I keep doing that. Sorry."

"You can touch me any time you want to. And, oh, God, that sounded better in my head."

Gwen laughed and did take his hand, bringing his knuckles to her nose and inhaling before she laughed again. "I think you're right, it does smell good, but mostly I can smell cream cheese and sugar. Cover me, I'm going in." She scooted past him to the bathroom while Bill stood there, frozen yet again as he tried to decide what 'cover me' meant in this situation.

Nothing, he told himself firmly. It was just a thing people said.

Blankets?His bear provided an image of them, warm and nestly in a den.

Bill relaxed with a chuckle.Bears don't use blankets.

Bearswoulduse blankets if they had them,his bear informed him sternly, and Bill had to admit that seemed likely.

It also seemed likely that he should leave the room, go back down to the lobby and wait for Gwen there. That was probably the polite thing to do. Except it also seemed a little weird tojust not be there when she came out of the bathroom, and it seemed even weirder to yell, "I'm going downstairs!" over the sound of the running shower, like they were actually a couple or something.

His bear said,You think too much,which was very likely.Sit down. Wait for our mate. Stop thinking!

Bill suspected it was a bad idea to actually stop thinking, but, chastened, he made his way to the room's couch and sat, knowing he'd wait for Gwen Booker forever.

CHAPTER 17

Gwen turned the shower on as soon as she went in the bathroom, mostly because she didn't want Bill to think she was standing there gazing at herself in the mirror and thinking about the big gentle man in the main room. She looked ridiculous, anyway, with melted frosting dripped on her shirt and a thin glaze gleaming on her face. And her eyeliner had run when she'd laughed until she'd cried, which meant the new brand she'd picked up was cheap and needed to be thrown out.

That was a good thing to discover before she went on stage and sweated for two hours, actually. She cleaned her face with a makeup wipe—honestly, she'd had those in the car, but she hadn't thought of them, which would have been embarrassing if the whole thing hadn't been so funny. Once the worst of it, makeup and frosting alike, was gone, she stripped and got in the shower for the second time that morning, because getting sandwiched by cinnamon rolls was the kind of thing a person needed a complete do-over for.

Poor Bill's face had been priceless when he'd smooshed them all over her, too. She giggled again, hoping the shower muffled the sound, and scrubbed so she didn't give into the temptation to stand there in the hot water thinking about how he'dblushedat her no-hands suggestion in the car. The shower head had a good pulse setting. She had a few excellent ideas as to what to do with it while thinking about how she'd put her own hands to good use while Bill couldn't use his at all, buuuuuut that was entertainment for when hewasn'tin the other room waiting for her. It only took a few minutes to get clean, and when she got out of the shower, wrapping her hair in one towel so she could dry off with the other, she realized he'd been right.

She also realized she hadn't brought any clothes to changeintointo the bathroom with her, so she went into the main room, wrapped in towels, to say, "You were right," as she went to her suitcase to find something to wear. "The cinnamon and orange-sandalwood do smell amazing together."

"I. Oh. Sorry. Um." Bill stood abruptly and turned his back on her, his ears turning red. "Yes, they do. Sorry, I thought you'd be dressed."

"I forgot my clothes. You don't have to turn around," Gwen said, amused. "I didn't mean to make things awkward."

"As if coating you with cream cheese frosting didn't already do that."

Gwen grinned as she rooted through her suitcase. "Hey, I know people who would pay good money for that kind of thing."

---