Chapter Eight
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A rriving in Crimson Point was like stepping into an alternate universe compared to being on the streets of Portland.
TJ tugged his hood up against the chilly mist in the salty air and shoved his hands in the front pockets as he continued down the sidewalk along the main road that lined the waterfront, the familiar weight of his ruck pressed against his back. “Fogust” was in full effect today in the central Oregon Coast, a thick layer of marine cloud and mist hugging the ground reducing visibility.
The cool weather didn’t seem to be hurting the local economy any. Front Street was busy with a mix of locals and tourists visiting the brightly painted shops, restaurants and cafés. Children carried colorful kites or plastic pails and shovels while eating ice cream cones or cookies on the way to the beach.
Everything around him was clean and orderly. Everyone here seemed happy. A few people even offered him polite smiles as they passed by.
The abrupt shift in vibe was more jarring than he’d anticipated. He’d forgotten what it felt like to be seen. To be treated like an actual human being instead of people looking the other way or crossing the street if they noticed him.
Circling seagulls cried overhead, mixing with the rhythmic churning of the surf in the background. He caught the smell of deep-fried food and the tang of malt vinegar as he approached a fish and chips shop, then a waft of something sweet and vanilla-flavored farther up the street. It was coming from an open door of a little café across the road called Whale’s Tale, with a lineup that stretched halfway down the block.
He passed a veterinary office, did a double take when he spotted an obviously senior dog with a graying face and long, floppy ears lying flat on the floor just inside the glass door, staring up at him with droopy eyes. For some reason, it reminded him of a deflated air mattress, and one side of his mouth kicked up in amusement.
The sensation startled him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled, let alone laughed. It had been a long time since he’d had anything to smile or laugh about.
At the end of the street, he reached the Sea Hag, the town’s popular waterfront pub and the location for his upcoming meeting. When he walked in, the yeasty scent of beer hung in the air along with the mouthwatering smell of grilling burgers.
He glanced around the crowded space, taking in the view as the sound of combined conversations flowed over him. He was about ten minutes early, but even though it wasn’t quite noon, the bar was already jammed, and all the tables were occupied.
Two big guys at a booth in the corner turned to look at him. The dark-haired one raised his arm at him in greeting. Beckett Hollister, owner of the renovation company TJ was here to interview for, and a red-headed guy with a short beard.
He walked over to them, feeling more curious eyes on him as he passed the other tables. The locals knew he was a newcomer.
Both men stood. Beckett offered his hand. “TJ. Thanks for coming out.”
“No problem.” He shook with him, then with the other man across the table.
“I’m Mac,” the second guy told him in a clear Scottish accent.
TJ nodded, set his ruck on the floor, and took the padded bench seat across from them. Even though having his back to the rest of the room made his spine tingle with unease. Combat and needing to stay vigilant on the street left an indelible mark. He liked being able to see what was coming at him.
“You want anything else to drink before we get started?” Beckett said.
“No, the water’s good.” There were already three glasses of it on the table.
Beckett rested his forearms on the scarred, dark wood table and started the conversation. “So, I hear you served with Bristol’s brother. You and her close?”
“No.”
Surprise flickered in the other man’s deep brown eyes. “Really. She’s been so insistent about me meeting you, I thought you guys must be friends.”
TJ shook his head. “I met her for the first time when she showed up at the jobsite in Portland on Saturday.”
Beckett exchanged a puzzled glance with Mac before looking back at him. “You were a Ranger?”
He nodded.
“I was Army too.”
He was being modest. TJ had done some research. Beckett had been Special Forces. And an A-Team leader at that. “I heard.”
“Mac served with the Royal Marines. We try to hire veterans exclusively when we can.”
He nodded again, not knowing what else to say.
“Honestly, given what Bristol told me about your background, I was surprised you were interested in interviewing for our company. Crimson Point Security might be a better fit for you.”
He appreciated Beckett’s honesty. “I prefer construction.” His background made getting security clearances messy.
“Why’s that?”
He lifted a shoulder. “I like physical work, being able to do my shift and then be off the clock.” It gave him time for his other...pursuits.
“Fair enough.” Beckett paused. “There’s just one thing that’s bothering me.”
He held Beckett’s gaze, braced himself for what he already knew was coming. “What’s that?”
“We did a standard, preliminary background check on the name listed on your paperwork with the construction firm in Portland. Barros.” Beckett’s gaze was unwavering. “It didn’t turn up any work history.”
He’d been ready for this since agreeing to the meeting. “No. I got paid under the table when I worked. And I moved around a lot.” They knew he was homeless. He didn’t need to spell it out.
“Is TJ a new identity?”
“I needed a fresh start after I left the military. So I officially changed my name to Tiago Joaquin. TJ for short.”
Beckett seemed to weigh that for a long moment. TJ glanced between him and Mac before continuing. “I don’t have a criminal record. And I received an honorable discharge when I left the service.”
“Under what name?”
“Tomás Cordoba.”
Mac nodded and jotted it down. “Got it. Though Bristol’s already vouched for you, of course.” He looked up at him. “We’ve hired plenty of lads with black marks in their pasts. But we’d rather know ahead of time if there are any surprises we should be aware of.”
When TJ didn’t answer right away, Beckett folded his arms, looking every inch the team leader he’d once been. “Is there anything else we need to know about you?”
“No,” TJ said. Nothing that would affect them or his performance on the job. Information about his name change was available if they wanted to check it. Which he was sure they would.
“I spoke to two of your foremen in Portland. They had nothing but good things to say about you. Good work ethic, you show up on time, and don’t cause any problems. But I need to know—are there any substance abuse issues?”
“No.”
That dark stare continued to measure him for a long moment. Then Beckett nodded once, and TJ felt like he’d passed muster. “Okay. Good. We’re currently looking to hire two more people in the next few weeks, as we’re heavy into our busy season. And I’m not sure if Bristol told you, but we can provide housing if you take a full-time position.”
TJ raised his eyebrows. “Are you offering me the job?” Just like that? Even with the potential red flag about assuming a new identity and no work history?
“Bristol’s vouched for you. That, your Ranger tab, and your honorable discharge are enough for me.”
Wow. He hadn’t expected this. And as for Bristol vouching for him, that was crazy. As crazy as her coming to Portland alone the other night and tracking him down in the roughest part of the city. She had no reason to believe in him just because he’d served with her brother. What if he was a shitty person? She’d repeatedly gone above and beyond to help him, and it made no sense.
“Do you want it?” Beckett asked, dragging him out of his thoughts.
He hid his surprise, refused to acknowledge the rush of pride he felt at the offer. Since he’d been on the street, not many people had trusted him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt, or believed him worthy of a chance. Most had assumed that since he was homeless, he was therefore also lazy, useless, as well as being a drunk or an addict, batshit cray, or a combination thereof.
This show of faith by a former A-team leader made him feel more human than he had in almost a year. “Yes, I do.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
“Here’s an employment contract for you to look at.” Mac slid some papers across the table to him.
Beckett raised an arm to flag down a server. “Let’s order first. Lunch’s on the company.”
Mac ordered fish and chips. TJ and Beckett ordered bacon cheeseburgers with fries, and TJ read over the contract while they waited. The terms were fair and more than generous. Benefits kicked in after just one month of full-time work, and they covered everything from medical to dental, medications, counseling, physical therapy, even a certain dollar amount of massage therapy coverage each year.
He had no idea how long he’d stick around. It depended on how things went.
“You don’t have to sign it now,” Beckett told him. “Take it with you and read it later if you want. But it’s pretty up front. We’re not trying to take advantage of anyone.”
No, the exact opposite. “I’ll sign it now.” He took the pen Mac handed him, signed and dated the few places necessary, and slid the contract back.
“Welcome aboard, mate. I’ll give you a copy,” Mac said, signing the corresponding lines before passing it to Beckett to do the same.
“You start Monday, oh-eight-hundred,” Beckett said as he finished the final signature. “It’s a two-story Victorian we’re starting on up the hill east of here toward the coastal highway. Mac will be your onsite foreman, and you’ll meet our business partner Jase too. He handles all the accounting and finances. In the meantime, we’ll get you squared away.”
“There’s a wee, one-bed bungalow we’ve nearly finished on the north side of town, up on the bluff,” Mac said. “The main construction is done. Plumbing, wiring, tiling, fixtures and paint are all sorted, and it’s furnished for staging, but some of the finishing work still needs to be done. If you don’t mind that and handling some grouting, sealing, cleaning and landscaping in your free time, you can move in as soon as this afternoon. If you want.”
TJ stared at him, then glanced at Beckett, too stunned to speak. They were just going to give him a newly finished house to live in? Without even knowing him or having much background on him? That was a hell of a lot of trust to put in a complete stranger who’d been living on the streets for a long time now. How did they know he wouldn’t trash it or strip the copper wiring and pipes out of the walls to sell, and take off one night?
“I don’t mind doing the finishing,” he said.
“Excellent. Do you need to go back to Portland for anything?” Mac asked.
“No.” He was done with that place. For now. Everything he had left in this life was in his ruck.
“All right. I’ll take you up to the house after we finish up here. But take your time eating. The scran here’s amazing. And don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you could use a second serving of chips.”
It was true, he didn’t have much fat on him now. “I might be open to a second helping of fries.”
The food arrived. Maybe it was because it felt like he’d just fallen out of the lucky tree and hit every branch on the way down, but it was the best burger and fries TJ had ever tasted. He still couldn’t believe everything that was happening, or how fast.
A niggle of guilt pricked him about his ulterior motive for coming out here to the coast. He smothered it. Things were turning out even better than he could ever have imagined. He wondered what Bristol would think of it all. He had her number programmed into his phone. Not that he would call her. But maybe he’d message her at some point to let her know he’d taken the job. Get her off his back for good.
“Welcome aboard, TJ. See you Monday,” Beckett said after they ate. TJ stood with him, shook his hand again. “Message or call if you need anything before then.”
“I will.” He definitely wouldn’t. Beckett had already done more than enough for him. He would do what he could to pay it back. “Thanks.”
As Beckett strode through the crowded room, Mac clapped him on the back. “Ready to go? My truck’s in the lot just up the hill. Do you have any gear we need to pick up?”
“No. Just this.” He hoisted his ruck from the floor and flipped it over his head onto his shoulders. Besides his beret and service medals, it was the only thing he’d kept from his days in the military.
Mac rounded the table and headed for the door with a noticeable limp in one leg. TJ stayed a step behind him, feeling the curious stares following them. When he stepped outside, a gust of damp wind greeted him, whipping off the rolling waves that washed onto the wide expanse of sandy beach to their right.
“This way,” Mac said, and strode for the crosswalk that led to the other side of Front Street.
TJ was halfway across it when he spotted a familiar figure stepping out of Whale’s Tale on the opposite side. Bristol stopped on the sidewalk with what looked like a pastry box in her hands, her face lighting up. “Oh my gosh, hi!”
Her dazzling smile was aimed directly at him and full of joy. The power of it momentarily paralyzed him, rooting his feet to the asphalt.
A horn beeped, knocking his brain back into gear. He hurried to the other sidewalk, unable to take his eyes off her.
Mac had paused to speak to her. After a moment, he shot TJ a grin and jerked a thumb up the hill. “I’ll bring the truck down. We need to come back down this way anyhow.”
As he limped off, TJ stood unmoving on the sidewalk, bracing himself as Bristol approached. Today she wore a frilly white top that left her rounded arms and a thin strip of midriff bare above the waistband of her flowy, calf-length blue skirt with little white polka dots all over it.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said when she reached the corner, still beaming at him. The breeze tousled her dark brown hair around her shoulders, a blue bow with little white polka dots that matched her skirt holding it back from her face. She looked summery and fresh and so incredibly gorgeous it almost hurt to look at her.
“Hi.” It was all he would allow himself to say. The woman was a damned thorn in his side. He couldn’t seem to get rid of her no matter where he went. But seeing that genuine smile just for him, some deeply buried part of him was glad he’d made her happy by showing up for the interview today.
“You look...amazing, by the way.” She ran an approving gaze over him from head to toe.
He resisted the urge to shift his stance even as his cheeks heated slightly, now exposed by the full goatee he’d shaved that morning. Before leaving Portland, he’d paid for a cheap haircut and an almost new flannel shirt from a second-hand shop, to look more presentable for the interview.
It was embarrassing, to be blushing. But there was also a sense of pride that she clearly liked the way he’d cleaned up. The way Bristol looked at him now made the effort more than worth it. It’d been forever since a woman had looked at him like that, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this level of attraction to anyone.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, still smiling. Her gaze dropped to his mouth for a moment, and a different kind of hunger swept through him.
“I met Mac and Beckett for an interview.” He was struggling not to look at her mouth. Or imagine what it would feel like under his.
The leap of hope and excitement in her eyes was anything but fake. Everything about her was so damned real, it sparked his deepest protective instincts. “How’d it go?”
He didn’t have it in him to mutter an excuse and walk away, and he didn’t see the point in lying when she was the reason for his sudden good fortune. “I got the job.”
“That’s fantastic!” She gave him another megawatt smile that shut his brain off and left him staring. “Congratulations. Are you excited? What an amazing fresh start this will be for you. Crimson Point’s so great. You’ll love it here.”
He shrugged. Excited was the wrong word, but her reaction alone was worth accepting the job. Her unwarranted belief in him soothed a raw wound in his soul that had been festering for too long. And he was already addicted to her smile. Already craved it and secretly wanted more of her warmth and care.
That was dangerous. He’d been frozen inside for so long, had gone unnoticed and uncared about since he’d ended up on the streets. He had to be careful not to let Bristol thaw the icy core inside him. In his world, it was all that kept him alive.
“When do you start?” she asked when he didn’t respond.
“Monday.”
She nodded. “Great. Have you eaten?”
“Yeah. Mac’s gonna be here any minute to pick me up.”
“Oh.” Her smile vanished. “Sure.”
He felt like a dick for shutting her down so bluntly, but his lifestyle was hard. He’d known it would be from the outset. And even though things were looking up for him at the moment, he knew all too well that it could all disappear at any time and land him back on the street.
Much as he liked Bristol, as crazy attracted as he was to her, he couldn’t afford to let her get mixed up in his life. It wouldn’t be right. And he definitely didn’t want her hanging around him, seeing what he got up to.
A big silver pickup pulled up to the stop sign to his right, saving him from the awkward silence. Mac waved at him through the windshield. “See you around,” TJ said to her, hating being the reason the light in her eyes dimmed as he turned away.
“Yeah. See you.”
He headed for the truck, didn’t look back. He’d fulfilled his end of the bargain by coming here for the interview. He’d even taken the job. Now he needed to keep his distance from her.
For both their sakes.