Page 36 of OctoBEARfest

"They are literally chanting your name," she informed Gwen. "Hundreds of them. I do not think this crowd is going to thin out until after you've put in an appearance. Ididget some of the security crew to herd the Canadians off to one side so they can meet us later, but G, we are at the start of a moment. A movement. I completely get your reservations, and also, I will totally kill you if you blow this for the rest of us."

Bill bristled a little, prepared to defend Gwen's decisions, whatever they were, but to his surprise, she cackled and stood up. "Yeah, no, that's fair. Like I said, I'm one of five, it would really suck for me to bring everybody else down."

"You're not, you know." Penny was watching the singer with an intense gaze. "I mean, you are, yes, but some animals are more equal than others, even if you go to huge lengths to keep yourself out of the limelight except when we're actually on stage. The truth is you could walk away and have a solo career in a way none of the rest of us could, or you could decide to stay right here behind this door and make sure we never climb any higher than we are right now. And Iwouldtotally kill you, but I'd also get it."

Gwen made a face that looked like it came from the bottom of her soul. "You know I'd never go solo."

"Yes. But I also know you could."

The face Gwen made that time was more resigned than rejecting, and she walked over to give Penny a heavy hug. "Yeah. I could. And I could also not go out there right now and just let you guys enjoy the glory."

"But it's not what they want, and we know it," Penny said gently to the lead singer. "They got their time with us. Now they want to see the main event."

"I'll come with you, if you want," Bill offered quietly. "You said I made good security."

"'Youarethe brute squad,'" Penny said to him, and Gwen laughed, then put a hand out toward Bill momentarily, accepting his offer with the gesture.

"That would be great, yeah. For the record, I'd be okay without the brute squad, but it'd be nice to have it. All right." She gave Penny a nervous grin. "Let's go blow the roof off this thing, I guess."

"Damn straight." Penny grabbed her hand and pulled the door open to a roar that nearly knocked Bill backward. Even she said, "Oh my God," under her breath, and then the two band members were out in the beer garden, pulled into a security line of people guiding them down toward the crowd.

Bill fell in right behind them, abruptly aware of his own size in a way he usually wasn't. The women lookedsmallin front of him, and it was clear that the people clustered around the cordons just off the beer garden all suddenly felt like maybe it wasn'tquiteas important as they'd imagined to be the first ones to touch, or get pictures with, the band's star. One of the security guys—not someone he knew, but a shifter from the sense of him—gave Bill a brief, approving nod that gave him an odd sense of satisfaction. The security dude couldn't possibly know Bill was there to protect his mate, but it felt like he'd been recognized as Doing His Job, and he liked it.

It was much, much more chaotic than the Harlequin had been the night before. For one thing, although there'd been a couple hundred people at that gig, only two dozen or so had hung around after the show. Tonight there were five times that number, some of them with the frenzied, glittering looks that Bill had seen in videos of Elvis, or the Beatles.

His bear rumbled.Those people aren't safe for our mate.

Most of them are,Bill disagreed, and honestly believed it. But it did make him remember thatfanswas short forfanatics. He'd never really been in the firing line of that kind of intensity before.

But Gwen had, he realized. He knew it: she'd told him. He just hadn't fully understood, not until right now, and he bet that this—a last-minute gig at the edge of the Rockies—wasn't anything compared to what she'd experienced as a kid in Hollywood.

The bear rumbled again.These people aren't safe forus.

That, unfortunately, could well be true. Shifters usually tried to stay out of the spotlight, and with good reason. But nothing external told the world Bill could turn into a giant grizzly, and he said,Well, we're certainly not going to shift in front of them. It'll be fine,with as much calm reassurance as he could. It was something he hadn't considered, though. Maybe it wasn't possible to safely build a relationship with a burgeoning rock star while living in a small shifter town.

He'd never really considered leaving Renaissance, before. Not until that moment. But as he watched Gwen laughing and bumping elbows and taking selfies with fans, signing things—including their faces—for them, he realized that whethersheknew it or not, she was in her element. This washerfate, and he knew in his heart that she was ready to embrace it.

Which might mean his own fate was a future he'd never even dreamed of.

CHAPTER 23

Bill stayed with her right through the whole line, a large comforting presence who never once had to say anything, much lessdoanything to offer protection. Being there was enough. More than enough. They met the Canadians—a gorgeous pair of women who gotten married recently and were declaring the road trip an extension of their honeymoon—and had a few seconds with many of the other road-trippers, all of whom were almost incoherent with joy. Gwen felt that way herself, buzzing with excitement and remembering, for the first time in a long time, thefunparts of this kind of life.

It was late when the last fans finally drifted away. Late enough that the pub's kitchen would have closed down already, except Bill had gone back to ask them to stay open so the band could eat. By then they were all starving, but still giddy, half shouting at each other about the evening's successes. Bill went to man the grill himself, a big solid guy who obviously knew what he was doing, although when Gwen complimented him, he shook his head and smiled. "I'm okay in a kitchen. You should try my brother's place out in New York, though. They've turned it into a gourmet gastropub."

"Right," Gwen said, amused, "because New York is a very practical place to have lunch before the gig tomorrow. Or for our date next weekend."

His brown eyes genuinely lit up, as if he'd thought she would have forgotten their plans for the next weekend. "Maybe on the third date," he offered.

Gwen laughed out loud and raised her beer bottle to him. It wasgreatbeer—this one was called Thunder Blunder, and was apparently one of their most popular IPAs—and if she wanted to be hung over for the next gig, she'd have several. Instead she nursed the one, then accepted a second that she'd drunk most of before she realized she was supposed to drive back to the hotel. She swore about it rather philosophically, trying to figure out in her head how long it would take to walk before she got her phone out and checked the map app.

"I know at least two of the band haven't been drinking," Bill said, settling down at her side, "but I could drive you, if you wanted."

"Why Mr Torben," Gwen said rather hopefully, "you don't have ulterior motives, do you?" He looked so startled she couldn't help laughing again. "I guess not, then."

"No," he said sheepishly. "Not beyond thinking 'and that way I can come pick you up again in the morning, since your car will be here.'"

"Oh, so youareplanning ahead. Good to know. Are we having breakfast together?"

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