Damaged and the Saint (Damaged #7)



Art wasn’t a subject I enjoyed. I had no eye for colors or shapes. I couldn’t tell the difference between a work of artistry and a child’s best design. Lacking creativity, I couldn’t imagine a finer tattoo in Harlow’s honor besides her name.

Fortunately, Aaron wasn’t me.

I thought to put the design on my chest, but Aaron gently pointed out Harlow’s face would soon be covered in hair. No way did my woman want a beard. Aaron suggested my back for the placement, but I wanted to be able to see it easily. My first tattoo included Harlow’s beautiful face so I wanted it somewhere I could enjoy.

My left bicep and close to my heart was the perfect spot. Aaron's design was a dreamcatcher with Harlow’s face drawn in shadow in the middle.

Talking with Lark, Harlow remained with me in the shop. She frequently peeked at Aaron’s work then held my gaze in a way that made my cock hard.

“Stop,” I finally grumbled, uncomfortable enough sitting still for hours without her working me into painful erection.

Harlow laughed followed by Lark. Once Aaron laughed, I asked my woman to leave, so I could concentrate. She left, but not before giving my cock a quick squeeze.

Harlow did more than squeeze my cock in bed that night. The tattoo acted as an aphrodisiac, causing her to spend hours naked exploring every inch of me. She even slept on a different side of the bed to ensure she'd wake up looking at my arm.

Weeks later when my parents visited for the wedding, Mom was just as impressed while Dad wished I’d done something more religious. Standing tall and wide like the linebacker he once was, my father looked dressed for church in a buttoned up shirt and black slacks

“Jesus died for your sins, Rafe. Couldn’t you suffer a little for him?”

Grinning, I tugged a nervous Harlow out from behind me. “My heart got swept away. Can you blame me?”

Shaking his head, Dad smiled. “No. God clearly sent you a gift.”

“Your heart has wonderful taste,” Mom said, stealing Harlow away as we headed to dinner.

Dad and I walked behind Mom, watching her black hair swing back and forth in a ponytail. Holding Harlow's hand, she talked about how wonderful a child I was growing up. My kids were sure to be the same. After ten minutes, Mom was already talking grandbabies.

Ready to start our new life, I was no longer Saint or Bob Robertson. I became Rafael Ramsey. Harlow even helped me choose the last name, wanting something cool. She also thought Stephanie would appreciate the alliteration.

A few days after my parents arrived in Ellsberg, Mom wept quietly while I married Harlow in Tad’s church. My dad played pastor while Tad walked his daughter down the aisle. I wore a suit with no tie, looking more casual than my parents. Harlow chose a simple blue dress and sandals. While she hated all the attention, my parents needed me to get married in a church. Her parents likely felt the same way. They were just less dramatic about it.

With only the crew, Johanssons, and our families in attendance, my dreamcatcher and I made our love official.





Epilogue ~ Harlow


I spent my last day in Ellsberg at Raven's baby shower. Mom came along, wanting to stay close for as long as possible. Sitting between her and Winnie at the party, I felt a depression sweeping over me. These women were more than friends. They gave me strength. Would Rafael be enough in Houston?

Raven was so excited about being a mom, but I wouldn't be in town when River was born. I'd be gone the next time anything big happened for the crew. I couldn't help my family with church or work with Jace on his school assignments. Their lives would go on without me.

Rafael proved his patience during those next few weeks. I was a mess on the flight to Houston, having never flown before. I missed my family and cried constantly during our first night in the hotel. As days passed, I spent all my time on the phone with Winnie and Mom. Refusing to leave the apartment, I didn't want to look for a condo or check out the office space Rafael found for his business. All I wanted to do was return to Ellsberg.

Accustomed to being on his own, Rafael handled our new life without my input. Lost in my depression, I began to believe he'd be better off if I went home.

"Let's make a deal," he said a week after we arrived in Houston. "You give me six months to get things organized here. Once I put my company together, if you want to move back to Ellsberg, we will."

Cuddled in his arms, I felt torn between shock and hope. "But your business is here."

"I can do a lot of it online, if need be. The people I work with don't need handholding."

"You don't want to live in Ellsberg," I mumbled, feeling guilty.

Rafael smiled. "It's not bad for a redneck paradise. Just give me the six months though. If you still don't like it here, we'll move to Ellsberg. I promise."