Page 37 of Bad Blood Bear

Chapter 16

Tank took her out the back door and across the weedy ground to a place where some trees had been cut to form a little clearing. Inside the clearing was a tiny fairy-tale cottage.

It was smaller than the single-wides she’d seen on the other side of the clearing. Made all of wood, it sat on a wheeled platform, but it had steps up to a tiny deck big enough for two chairs, though it was empty now.

The roof gave the impression of a sharp peak, but it was built out on either side. The whole thing was covered in gingerbread trim, like Victorian houses, and it had a cottage door with a rounded top, which looked like it was cut across the middle like a dutch door.

It was painted fanciful colors, and the door was bright blue.

Lissa was utterly enchanted. “It’s adorable,” she said. “Who lives here?”

“Nobody yet,” Tank said. “I’m just finishing it.”

She rounded on him, stunned. “You built this?” she said. She walked up and touched the wall, running her fingers over the intricate trim. “That’s amazing,” she said. “It’s like a cross between a work of art and a rich kid’s playhouse.”

“It’s more than a playhouse,” Tank said, his voice warming as he talked about something he clearly loved. “It’s called a tiny house. They’ve become really popular in the last few years. People who want to live off the grid, or just downsize and spend their money on something besides a huge mortgage on a McMansion.”

He hesitated, looking almost shy. “Do you want to see inside?”

Lissa had never known anyone who could do something like this. Her stepfather had been a deadbeat prick who could barely hold down a job, and on the streets, most everyone she knew stole for a living, or ran drugs or guns or chop shops.

No one built things or made things. No one created things that made people smile, just looking at them. Even the People of Ursus had made practical things, not beautiful ones.

But Tank, big brawling grizzly Tank, had fairy-tale cottages in his soul. She found herself smiling, her chest feeling warm inside.

“Are you kidding?” She was already in love with the outside. It looked like a magical house.

Tank opened the door and ushered her inside. She liked when he did that—like he had when they left the police station. It made her feel fragile and special.

“Wow,” she said, walking inside. “It’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

It was all wood paneled inside, but rather than feeling dark and close, it felt cozy and homey. He’d used different colored woods for the paneling, and in the middle of one wall he’d made them into a sunburst pattern, like a built-in piece of art.

There was a full kitchen—tiny, but with everything you could need. A small fridge, and a stove with a mini-oven, and even a miniature dishwasher and a washer/dryer combo tucked under a countertop. There was an itsy-bitsy living area, and a bathroom with a galvanized metal cowboy tub and a shower head over it.

Best of all, there were two lofts—one at either end. One had a mattress in it—a big one that could fit two people—but covered in plastic as if no one had used it yet. The other loft had a storage area, and a futon in front of a widescreen TV.

It was perfect.

Lissa ran her fingers over the smooth wood surfaces, the shiny appliances. “This is amazing,” she breathed. “Are you going to live in it?”

Tank laughed, and gestured to himself. “Have you met me? I’m huge. Building a tiny house is one thing, for a guy my size. Living in it is another. I need my California King and two-story living room. I don’t mind sharing with Flynn.”

“Then why did you build it?” she asked curiously.

He shrugged. “I like building things. I used to build regular houses, back when…in my old life,” he said.

When he’d been with Angie. When he’d had a normal life.

“But tiny houses…” he shook his head. “Each one can be completely unique. And I get to do the construction from top to bottom, and all the finishes, and…I don’t know. It’s like a little den that somebody could live in, who can’t afford a house. It’s on wheels, so it can even be moved, like a trailer, but…”

“But homier,” Lissa said. “It’s magical in here.”

“Yeah,” he said, looking pleased. “It’s almost done—I just need to stain and seal the deck, and finish some of the trim on the inside, and hook up all the utilities.”

“So then what are you going to do with it?” she asked. “Are you going to sell it?” She remembered him talking about the crew needing to get jobs and make money, but her heart already hurt at the thought of this place going to a stranger.

He looked down, rubbing at a tiny rough spot on the paneling. “I need to sand that,” he murmured. He looked up at her. “Actually, I was thinking you might want to live in it. It would give you a place of your own, like the others have.”