Page 52 of Bad Blood Bear

Lissa shook her head. “Oh, no,” she said. “Condition number one.”

She dragged him, protesting, into the Big and Tall shop a few doors down. She hunted down a salesman like a pro, and then launched into a story about how they were on a romantic spontaneous road trip from Cookeville—no luggage—and that Tank needed something appropriate for dinner in a nice restaurant. Immediately.

She tilted her head, looking Tank over in a way that did nothing to reduce his boner. “Maybe some charcoal-gray dress pants, and one of these shirts?” She walked over to a rack that had shirts of a muted plum color—a color Tank would never have considered wearing.

“I was thinking gray or dark green…” he said.

The salesman chimed in, “Oh, no, the lady is right, this one is perfect with your coloring.”

“I’m going to look like an eggplant,” he muttered. Lissa elbowed him in the ribs.

“Conditions,” she whispered. “You promised.”

“Fine,” he said. He raised his voice. “I need underwear, too,” he told the salesman. “Something sexy.”

Lissa blushed an adorable red. He grinned at her wickedly. Revenge was sweet.

Tank took the clothes the salesman picked out into the fitting room and put them on, down to the silky black boxers the salesman had brought. They felt good against his skin, and the scent of Lissa’s arousal when she’d seen them made the embarrassment worthwhile. But his raging hard-on was not helping the fit of his pants.

“Are you ever coming out?” she called. “I thought it was women who took forever to get dressed.”

“Sorry,” he called. “I’m having a little trouble getting these pants on.”

There was silence, and then Lissa gave the wicked little giggle that made him want to drag her in here and bone her right this minute.

“Not helping,” he called out. More giggles.

When he finally arranged himself in the least painful way and came out, he was surprised to see Lissa’s eyes widen and her lips part as she looked him over.

Did she think he looked handsome? He looked at himself in the full-length mirror. He never thought much about the way he looked, but the dark pants were well cut despite the unfortunate bulge, and the plum shirt looked surprisingly not-heinous.

“Perfect,” the salesman said. “You were right, the plum brings out the green in his eyes.”

It did? He looked at himself again. Huh. Maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Lissa said, “We’ll take him. Them.” Tank felt a grin spreading across his face.

He was thinking he could get to enjoy dating.

The drive to the restaurant was silent, but not in an uncomfortable way. Tank kept giving Lissa sidelong glances, wondering what she was thinking. And what her second condition was, and when she’d spring it on him.

Strangely, he found himself looking forward to that.

Tank pulled into the parking lot and turned the engine off. He hesitated a moment, and then asked, “Why’d you make up that story about us being on a romantic road trip?”

When she didn’t answer, he added, “I’m not mad or anything. I was just wondering.”

Lissa shrugged, looking down at her clasped hands, picking at her nails. “I don’t know,” she said. “I used to always make up stories like that. Partly for camouflage, I guess, so no one would know who I really was or where I came from. That way no one could track me down, if they were looking.”

Tank waited, knowing there was more to it. He slid his hand over and covered hers, giving them a little squeeze.

She went on, “And partly because…I wanted to pretend I was a real person. With a real life. When you’re on the street, you feel invisible. I saw that eat people up, them not feeling like they mattered, so they disappeared into a bottle or a needle, or whatever. I swore that would never happen to me.”

Tank said in a low voice, “I think you’re a really brave person.”

Lissa shook her head. “No I’m not,” she said. “All I ever do is hide, blend in. When things get too tough, I move on. I don’t fight for people, like you do. I don’t even fight for myself.”

Tank shook his head. “You survived. You never stopped believing you mattered, that you were entitled to happiness. No matter how little you had, you never let people take your sense of self away. I wish I’d been that brave.”

He gave her hands another squeeze and said, “Wait there.”

He got out of the truck and went around to open her door. He helped her down, setting her gently on her feet.

“You do matter, Lissa.”

She put her hands on his chest, and with her fingertip, traced the shape of a heart where his heart beat inside his chest, breathlessly fast.

“So do you, Big Bear,” she said. “And you’re the bravest bear I’ve ever known.”

He leaned down and kissed her softly. Then he took her hand in his and walked her into the restaurant.