Damaged and the Saint

by Bijou Hunter

  Frowning, I stepped closer. “How long were you in there before your parents paid for your freedom?”

  Saint grinned at me. “What do I get for telling you that?”

  “What do you want?”

  Standing up, Saint glanced around then back at me. “I’m only in town for a week, maybe two. I can stay longer if I want, but small towns bug me. So since I’m only around for a while and you need a lot of training, I want you to move into my place.”

  “No way,” I said, panicking and backing away from him.

  Saint grinned. “You’re really obsessed with getting me naked. It’s not healthy.”

  I opened my mouth to tell him to stick his comment up his ass. Restraining myself, I studied him. “What would I do at your place?”

  “You get up in the morning and train with me. In the evening, we train again. Most of all, you face your biggest fear. A hot guy you want inside you.”

  “You’re a pig.”

  “No. I’m really not,” he said casually. “You’re simply scared, but you need to face those fears. Soon, you’ll see how past your walls is a world of possibilities.”

  “No sex, right?”

  Saint grinned then started walking up the embankment. “Sorry to disappoint, but I only have sex on my birthday and I was born in August.”

  “Why only on your birthday?” I asked, hurrying to catch up.

  “You keep asking questions, but never give me anything in return. I’m starting to feel used.”

  Rolling my eyes again, I still laughed at his expression. “Where would I sleep at your place?”

  “In my bed.”

  “Why not on the couch?”

  “You won’t be scared on the couch. In my bed, you’ll realize you have nothing to be afraid of. Of course, my birthday thing will help you keep from freaking out.”

  My brain raced at the thought of sleeping next to this sexy bastard. “I feel like this is a con.”

  Saint started walking faster and I really pushed myself to keep up.

  “You live a very normal life here. It’s why everything I say must be shoved past your preconceptions of how the world works. I’m not like the boys you know, Harlow.”

  Shivering at the sound of my name, I smiled. “You’re special, huh?”

  “Why not?” he asked, breaking into a run.

  “Crap.”

  I struggled to keep pace with Saint. Just when I reached a few step behind him, he swung at me with a branch he’d ripped from a tree as we ran. Even ducking in time, I lost my balance and twisted my knee while falling on my ass.

  Saint was halfway up the incline before realizing I was on the ground. He didn’t run back down though. More like a steady jog. I suspected he thought I was faking.

  “Are you faking it?” he asked, standing over me.

  I couldn’t believe how well I’d read him. “I twisted my bad knee.”

  “You’re too young to have a bad knee.”

  I glared hard at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Let me guess. You twisted your knee in a skiing accident.”

  “I’ve never gone skiing,” I said as he helped me up. “Why skiing?”

  “You look like the kind of woman who skis.”

  “You look like the kind of man who needs to shut up.”

  Saint smiled. “You get grumpy when you’re in pain.”

  “Well it hurts,” I whined. “I’m going home.”

  Still grinning, he effortlessly picked me up and started up the hill.

  “I don’t need to be carried.”

  “Probably, but you’d be really slow and life is short.”

  “Oh, in that case, go faster and don’t bounce me so much.”

  Saint’s smile widened. “Do you need me to take you to the hospital for your knee?”

  “No.”

  “Urgent care then.”

  “No.”

  Moving swiftly as if I weighed nothing, Saint gave me a dark look. “I knew a guy who twisted his ankle and figured it was nothing. He didn’t get it checked out and the damn thing rotted overnight. Woke up to find his flesh decaying. He had to have the whole damn thing cut off to save his life.”

  Studying Saint, I sighed. “That story isn’t true.”

  “No, but imagine if it was. Would you want your leg to be cut off, just because you don’t want to visit the doctor?”

  Grinning at his bullshit, I muttered, “I know what’s wrong with my knee. Every once and awhile, I twist it wrong and feel in a world of pain.”

  Arriving at his SUV, he set me down and dug into his bag for the keys. I leaned on my left foot and admired Saint’s damp face. No sweaty man should look so sexy.

  Saint noticed my gaze on him and smirked. “Don’t try distracting me from taking you to the urgent care. I saw one by the apartment, so I’ll get you checked out then drop you off. You’ll talk to mommy and daddy about staying with me.”

  “They’re not going to say yes.”

  “Then don’t ask them. Instead, you might check your birth certificate and see if you’re older than eighteen.”

  “I live in their house and follow their rules.”

  Saint gave me a great smile then shut the door. Just before it closed, I heard him call me a baby. Even if I was immature, the idea of sharing the same bed with this man terrified me. Platonic or not from his viewpoint, I couldn’t look at him without thinking about sex. He seemed to set off everything weak inside me. As much as I’d love to resent him for making me a horny mess, Saint couldn’t exactly control how gorgeous I found him.

  Chapter Eight ~ Saint

  The clinic wasn’t busy and we didn't wait long. After an x-ray, Harlow sat on a table, frowning at me. When I frowned back, she looked away. Her intimidation lasted only as long as I was frowning. Once I looked away, she was frowning at me again. I finally decided to play with her.

  “Are you in terrible pain?” I asked, walking to her.

  “Leave me alone.”

  “You should elevate your leg,” I said, ignoring her annoyed smile. “Lean back and use me as your pillow.”

  Harlow didn’t get my meaning until I lifted her bare leg and rested it over my shoulder. For a moment, she was horrified to have me between her legs. Her terror ended quickly then she laughed.

  “I’m not a baby,” she grumbled despite her smile.

  “Oh, are you still nursing a grudge about that? Womanly anger is your thing apparently,” I said, massaging her tender knee.

  Harlow wanted to be pissed, but my fingers magically shut down her anger. Leaning back on the table, she sighed.

  “You don’t like being tempted any more than I do,” I said, holding her gaze.

  “I don’t know why I’m tempted at all. You’re awful.”

  Her gaze was relaxed and I knew she wanted to smile. Even if she refused to grin, I smiled easily. Harlow’s very existence made me happier than I’d felt in years.

  “I could flex my muscles, if you need a reminder of why you’re tempted.”

  “I know lots of ripped guys. You’re nothing.”

  “Say it again without all the lust in your eyes.”

  “It’s the massage. Nothing personal.”

  Behind her grumpy calm, I knew she truly feared the lust I stirred up inside her. I didn’t particularly enjoy my feelings for her either. Harlow was too young and damaged for me to tempt. Yet instead of avoiding her, I wanted her to stay with me at the apartment. I was firing on all cylinders lately.

  “You’re not my type,” I said, torn between wanting her close and needing her to get the hell away from me. “I like high maintenance women. You know the kind with perfect makeup and styled hair.” When Harlow looked unconvinced, I added, “The scent of hairspray always makes me a little hard. I can’t help it.”

  Now frowning, Harlow found herself torn. Should she feel relieved knowing I wouldn’t try to seduce her? Or maybe she was disappointed I didn’t want her? She was confused and I didn’t blame
her.

  “Sorry to disappoint,” Harlow said, settling finally on hurt feelings. “You’re not my type either.”

  “Really?” I asked, nearly laughing at her expression. “What’s your type?”

  “Nice guys.”

  “I’m nice,” I muttered, massaging her knee until she sighed. “You like pasty white guys, don’t you?”

  Harlow grinned ever so slightly. “Yes. Short ones too. I don’t like having to look up so much. Hurts my neck.”

  “Makes sense. What else do you like?”

  “Those big handlebar mustaches.”

  Laughing, I nodded. “Those are pretty sweet.”

  “Pasty, short, nice men with big mustaches are my thing.”

  “None of them around here?”

  “Oh, they’re around, but I have issues.”

  Holding her gaze, I said softly, “Everyone has issues. Even people without real issues make up fake issues so they can fit in.”

  “Mine are real.”

  “Mine too. We’re a walking talking ABC’s Afterschool Special here.”

  Despite rolling her eyes, Harlow clearly felt confused. I suspected she spent most of her life confused. This was just another reason why I wanted her. She was perfect for me like no other woman could be. Harlow was hard enough to endure the ugly man I became, yet soft enough to embrace the good man I was years ago. Over the years, I met plenty of women who fell for one side or the other. Yet, I’d never known anyone as complicated as Harlow.

  “I want you to stay with me while I’m in town,” I said, no longer teasing.

  “I don’t think I can.”

  “Can isn’t the word you’re looking for. What you mean is you won’t stay with me because you’re scared.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  Nodding, I gently lowered her leg. “In prison, I was raped. I’m sure this fact would be obvious, but men often lie about it. They lie for the same reason women lie, thinking the truth makes them weak. Better to lie than admit they were powerless at one point. I feel no shame about what happened, but I have my demons that keep me awake a night. In my line of work, I need to remain sharp. There’s more going on in Ellsberg than paintball games. If you stayed with me, I think I could sleep. No sex. No romance. None of the crap you’re worried about.”

  “Why would I help?” she asked and I knew she was warming up to the idea of staying at my place. “I have nightmares too. I get stressed in the dark. I feel things for you, but they scare me. I’d be pissy while staying with you. How is any of that going to help you sleep and stay sharp?”

  Leaning forward with my hands on each side of her, I studied her beautiful face. “You’re my dreamcatcher. Don’t tell me how I know, but I do. I only slept last night when I thought about you. Nothing dirty. Just imagined your house, what you liked to eat, where you went to school. That stuff helped me relax.”

  “What if you’re wrong and having me around doesn’t help?”

  “Then I’ll kick you out on the street and you’ll be homeless,” I teased.

  She rolled her eyes. “I like the idea of being your dreamcatcher, but my parents won’t agree.”

  “They will if you want them to,” I said, stepping away and sitting in the chair. “If you don’t want them to, they’ll say no and give you an out. It’s up to you. I’m not planning to lock you up in my apartment. Can’t have Cooper taking his eye off the ball by playing hero and saving you.”

  “Is Cooper in trouble? Should I warn him?”

  “Would you trust me if I said no?”

  Harlow studied me with her big almond-shaped eyes. I liked how she didn’t throw out a simple yes, but really considered whether she could trust me.

  “Yes,” she finally said and I smiled.

  “Cooper needs to focus on appearing strong and in charge. If he freaks out about you and me, he looks like a punk. As long as he remains focused on his club, the Memphis boys will focus on the other guys they’re testing.”

  “What others?”

  Still smiling, I shook my head. “You keep asking for free info. I don’t believe in sharing without something in return.”

  “What do you want?”

  “How did you hurt your knee?”

  Harlow’s smile faded as she worked up the strength to say the words.

  “The guy from the Devils, the one who started all the problems for me and Vaughn, his name was Playboy. He was the first one who raped me. I tried to run away once, so he started giving me drugs. I was out of it one day and lost my balance. When I fell, I twisted my knee.”

  After years of hiding my true emotions, I knew how to conceal my rage when she spoke about her past. Harlow didn’t crave pity. She wanted respect, so I only nodded. Since she shared something, I answered her earlier question.

  “Some of the guys in town for the paintball games are making moves in the organization. They’re being tested as much as Cooper. Some are young, some aren’t. They all have something to prove. If I had to guess, they should be more concerned than Cooper. He’s part of a solid club and his father has handled this territory well for a long time. You shouldn’t worry about your buddy.”

  “Thank you,” Harlow said softly.

  The tenderness in her voice sent a chill through me. For the next few minutes, we fell into silence. Harlow was no doubt thinking about what she shared and how saying the words hadn’t killed her. Her gaze was softer now and I enjoyed the feel of it on me.

  By the time the doctor arrived and declared her free to go, Harlow was plotting how to get her parents to agree with her decision to stay with me. I considered helping her plot. After all, I was a manipulative guy. Instead, I kept my mouth shut.

  While Harlow was young, she was strong enough to stand on her own. Despite her capabilities, I insisted on carrying her to the SUV as an excuse to hold her close. I was exhausted after a long night and needed my dreamcatcher to keep the demons at bay.

  Chapter Nine ~ Harlow

  Saint carried me from the SUV to the porch of my house. Saying nothing, he set me down, handed my backpack to me, and left. The guy wasn’t about pointless chatter. I had a decision to make. He gave me my choices. The next step was up to me.

  Limping into the house, I heard my parents talking in the kitchen. They only wanted the best for me. Tad and Toni Todds took me in when I was a mess. My family was dead and I was addicted to heroine. My body battered and my mind nearly destroyed, I wasn't sure I wanted to live anymore. Thinking back, I only stayed alive to repay Vaughn for what he gave up by saving me.

  Stronger now, I wasn’t that lost girl anymore. With Saint’s help, I could be even stronger, but I didn’t know if my family could understand.

  When I entered the kitchen, my parents looked up in unison and stared at me. I saw the questions in their eyes, but they remained silent. Even when they saw me limping, they said nothing.

  “Twisted my knee running.”

  “Are you okay?” Mom asked, struggling not to panic. “Want me to get an icepack?”

  “I’m good. I need to talk to you. Is now a bad time?”

  My parents looked at each other and shared a silent conversation. I waited for them to finish while I limped to the fridge to get a glass of sweet tea. When I returned, Dad and Mom had their game faces on.

  “What’s up?” Mom asked breezily.

  “Saint wants me to stay with him while he’s in town.”

  “No,” Dad said immediately, game face replaced by fiercely protective dad face.

  “It’s not a sexual thing.”

  “Sure.”

  “Let’s hear her out,” Mom said then added, “So when we say no, it’ll seem more reasonable.”

  My temper insisted I challenge my parents, yet my love for them said to let the comment go. “Saint is like no one I’ve ever met and he pushes me to face things like no one else does.”

  “He might be messing with you,” Dad said quietly. “Men like him have the power over life and death. It can get them twiste
d until they enjoy playing mind games on people.”

  “Saint isn’t playing with me. I don’t know how I can explain it to you, but he shared things with me that a man playing games wouldn’t share.”

  My mom opened her mouth to ask what things, but likely realized I wouldn’t spill his secrets.

  “I was raped,” I said.

  They both tensed, thinking I meant by Saint. Logically they knew I wouldn’t protect a bastard who hurt me.

  “Saint helped me say that without wanting to hide for the rest of the day in my room. I don’t know how, but he inspires me to face things. I even told him how I hurt my knee and I never told any of my therapists that. I know it doesn’t make sense, but I want to stay with him. He gets me and knows how to push me, but he doesn’t push too hard. I wish I could explain better. I just can’t give up this chance. He’s only in town for like a week.”

  “Are you asking to stay with him or telling us you’re doing it?” Dad asked in his scary father voice.

  “Both.”

  Sighing, Dad leaned back. “You know how we feel. I guess I could threaten Saint with what’ll happen if he hurts you, but I doubt he’d be impressed.”

  “Why does he want you to stay with him?” Mom asked. “What does he get out of it, if it’s not sexual?”

  “Small towns make him restless. For whatever reason, he likes me and I entertain him. I think it’s the part where I tried to kick his ass.”

  “You know nothing about this guy,” Dad pointed out, not giving into the idea easily.

  “I knew nothing about Vaughn either. He was a big scary stranger who saved me and brought me to you. When he showed up in Ellsberg, did you think he was a good man? Probably not. People think all kinds of stuff about you, Dad. Either you’re soft because you’re a pastor or you’re a thug because you’re in the club. Mom, you know people talked crap about Dad when you first met.”

  “This isn’t really the same thing.”

  “How do you figure? Saint could have hurt me in the woods when I freaked out on him. He just blocked my crap moves and waited until I was done being weird. Instead of thinking I was a loser, he offered to train me. In a few hours with him, I already feel stronger than I have after all those years in therapy. I’m doing this.”