Page 54 of Bad Blood Bear

He squeezed her hand and smiled, the dimples flashing under the sexy scruff on his face. “Good,” he said. “So pretend there are no prices on the menu, and tell me exactly what you want.”

You, she thought. I want you.

But she couldn’t say it, so she went back to looking at the menu, a warm sensation growing in the middle of her chest.

They ordered huge rare steaks and cheesy potatoes, and Caesar salads that were made right at the table, just like on TV. Lissa loved it all.

Tank watched her eat, looking happy every time she exclaimed over how good it was. She didn’t know why he was so happy about spending way too much money on her, but he seemed to enjoy it.

They’d spent a lot of time talking over the last few days, but there was still so much she wanted to know about him.

“So,” she began, between bites of steak. “Since this is a date, then it should be something special. So, tell me something new about you, that I don’t already know.”

He thought for a minute, then said mischievously, “I’ve never wanted to be a rock star.”

She laughed. “That doesn’t count. There are probably a thousand things you’ve never wanted to be. What do you want to be? If you could do anything you want? Astronaut? Pro football player? Gigolo?”

He grinned at her. “Sorry,” he said. “My dreams aren’t that exciting.”

She smiled back. “I still want to hear them,” she said softly. “I want to know what would make you happy.”

He gazed into her eyes for a moment, then said shyly, “What I’d really like to do is build tiny houses. As a business, I mean.”

“Big Man Tiny Houses. I like it. I could draw you a logo.”

Tank picked up her hands and kissed it. “Don’t make fun, Smartass Bear.”

He ducked his head. “I like tiny houses because they’re like building little jewel boxes. Each one can be different, and pretty. I like tiny, delicate things.”

He looked up at her, and she felt her face grow warm. “What about tiny, delicate-looking but actually badass street bears?”

He smiled. “I like those too.”

Lissa rubbed her hand up against his sexy scruff. “I think a tiny house business would be so cool. You could create a few standard models you could customize, and build them ahead of time and have them on your construction lot. And then you could also build completely custom homes for people, based on their preferences.”

Tank’s face lit up. “That’s what I was thinking,” he said. “It would take a while to establish myself, but I have a little money. I could build it up slowly.”

“I could build you a web site,” Lissa offered. “I know all about SEO and how to get it noticed. And I could design brochures for you, and you could maybe put the plans of the standard models online so people could look at them. I think it would be amazing.”

They talked about it through dessert, Tank explaining that he had a whole portfolio of sketches and floor plans. When the check arrived, Tank got out his credit card and slotted it into the pocket of the leather folder. Lissa reached for it as he put it down, and Tank pulled it away. “Date, remember?” he said. “You’re not supposed to worry about the cost.”

“It’s not that,” she said. “I just want to see the card.”

“Why?”

“Condition two,” she said. “I want to know what your real name is. Assuming your parents didn’t actually name you Tank. Besides, I can’t date a guy without knowing his last name. It makes me seem flighty and irresponsible.”

He smiled a little at that, but he still hesitated, holding the folder.

“Oh, no, it’s a secret, right?” she said. “If you tell me you’ll have to kill me.”

He pulled the card out and handed it over.

“Gilbert Morrison,” she read. She tilted her head, studying him. “Gilbert. I don’t think it suits you. Not badass enough.”

“It used to,” he said. “But I left the name behind with everything else when I lost Angie and left my house in Georgia. After that I was just Tank.”

When he’d joined the hunters. He hadn’t just lost Angie, he’d lost himself, all the way down to his name.