Page 44 of Loan Wolf
Fond wasn’t the word Gabe would have picked, but he’d take it. “I’m very fond of her, ma’am. I hope you’ll enjoy the second half. Nice to meet you, Victoria.”
“Vicky,” she said, looking amused.
“Vicky. If you’ll excuse me.”
Gabe wasn’t quite out of earshot when Vicky told her mother, “I like him! Can I get a tattoo?”
“You’re eighteen, honey. I can’t technically stop you.”
Gabe already knew that Vicky was going to be a whole pile of trouble, and he didn’t want to be anywhere near that bomb when it went off.
There was no line at the men’s room. He came out of the bathroom stall to wash his hands and found Trevor already scrubbing diligently in the sink next to him. “Trevor,” he said mildly. Was the young man going to continue their previous discussion? Linda probably wouldn’t appreciate them turning her theatre restroom into a barroom brawl.
Trevor only grunted, but when they met again at the only working towel dispenser, he cleared his throat. “About Clara…”
“Clara and I aren’t really your business,” Gabe warned him, letting his lip lift in a hint of a snarl. To his surprise, he could feel something shimmer underneath Trevor’s American Boy exterior.
He was a shifter, Gabe was absolutely dead certain of it, and Gabe would guess by his bulky build that it was something big.
He’d heard that some shifters could sense others, but Gabe had always filed that in the superstitious nonsense with mates and happy ever afters…and if those could be true, why couldn’t this? Maybe Mueller’s Pond had given him the ability. It was a little unnerving, but Gabe felt like it gave them some common ground.
That, and their fondness for Clara.
Trevor blew out and waited for an old man to exit the restroom before he said, “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time. Clara is all grown up and can make her own decisions. I had no right to imply that you weren’t good enough for her.”
It was big of him, and Gabe had some sense of how much it cost him to admit that. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for her,” he said peacefully, “but she’s my mate, and I’d never hurt her or let her get hurt.”
Trevor glanced at the row of empty stalls behind them in alarm and then gave a skeptical smile. “Your mate? Really?”
“Why would I lie?” Gabe asked mockingly. “There are far easier ways to get laid.” He gave Trevor a raking look. “Well, for some of us.”
The breath huffed out of Trevor and while he was still sputtering for a response, Gabe tossed his paper towel in the trash and gathered up Clara’s bouquet. “Enjoy the show.”
It seemed to take a ridiculously long time for everyone to get back into their seats, and the intermission stretched out as long as the entire first act.
The second act opened with the Tantalists, the band from Gran’s funeral, and Gabe felt like it was a weird sort of echo from that event. He managed not to crash into the tuba player this time when the band came off to make space for a comedy sketch that Fire Chief Turner had been recruited for.
“Enjoying the show?”
Gabe nearly fell out of his chair, and he was glad for the applause that drowned out the noise of his startle. Clara stood silently behind him, wrapped in a blue cloak.
“I’m just waiting for the final act,” Gabe admitted. “I’ve heard that it’s going to be a show-stopper. What are you doing?” He plucked at the edge of her cloak, but Clara wagged a finger at him and danced back.
“You’ll see!” she promised, and she gave him a kiss and vanished backstage again.
Gabe didn’t mark the next several sets with more than a token attention, clapping when the audience did, but missing all the jokes.
The last one before the end was cleared and Linda went out to take the spotlight as the crew busily removed all of the extraneous equipment. “Thank you so much for joining us for our inaugural season at Sunflower Stage...” She spent some time to thank the acts that had gone before, to draw out the audience’s anticipation for the last one.
Finally, she lifted her hand. “We are very lucky to have a special guest tonight, and I’m sure she needs no introduction at all. Please put your hands together for our very own Clara Montgomery, doing Clara’s dance from The Nutcracker!”
The audience was warm and excited and Gabe clapped along as Linda walked off stage and the lights came down.
For a moment, it was perfectly dark and silent, the tiniest creak of the stage betraying Clara as she crept into place.
The spot came on to a crouched figure in a cloak by…was that a manger at the front of the stage? Gabe realized what had seemed familiar when he saw her earlier; it was the blue cloak that Clara had worn as Mary from the Christmas pageant, or one just like it. There was a swell of snickers and speculation as the audience put the pieces together and filled in any newcomers to the inside joke.
“Mary” leaned over the manger and stood, cradling a blanket-wrapped object that she held up, striking a pose. She rose up on her toes and danced sedately around, her back to the audience as she curtsied and showed off her burden in first one direction, then another, pausing to draw it in and rock it. She stood on point and raised her back leg, showing off a fluff of tulle beneath the cloak she still wore. She pranced around on the tips of her toes with her feet trilling sedately. The blanket slowly slid off to reveal a yellow winter squash.
