The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus

by Claire Boston

  Which meant she had to focus.

  Next week was the first meeting of her book club and she needed to call around and confirm numbers. There were half a dozen people who had put their name down on the expressions of interest list, along with the days and times that would suit them. Elle had considered holding it after hours, but with Toby, it was too difficult. So instead they were meeting on Tuesday at two o’clock. It worked out well because it was after the lunch-hour rush.

  Leaving her staff to run the shop, she went into the kitchen to make the phone calls. By the time she had only one more call to make, it was noon. Telling herself she wasn’t a coward for leaving George to last, she went out to help serve the lunch customers.

  ***

  The first of George’s musicians arrived on time, just before two, to set up for his music set. Elle greeted Joel and showed him to his area. He was young, maybe twenty, and cute. Drew gave him more than a second glance.

  “George said to play my acoustic versions and keep it low; is that right?” Joel asked.

  At George’s name Elle started and then cursed herself. “That would be great.” She would not ask if George was dropping by to watch the session. It would be immature.

  He started his set and Elle wandered over to a customer who was browsing the books.

  She needed the distraction.

  ***

  An hour later the shop had settled into the quiet rhythm where everyone had been served and were focused on their conversations, and the staff were filling up sugar jars, cleaning up the kitchen, and restocking the bookshelves. Elle was so pleased with how everything was going. In two weeks she already had her regulars and her little café was often full.

  She’d never dreamed so big.

  Her cell phone rang so she headed to the kitchen to answer it. It wasn’t a number she recognized. “Hello?”

  “Elle, it’s Martin.”

  The elation Elle had been feeling deflated.

  “What can I do for you?” she said, keeping her tone polite but distant.

  “We’ve decided to spend an extra night in Houston and were hoping we could visit Toby if you’re free.”

  “Who are we?”

  “Just Lindsay and myself. Dean returned to the ranch.”

  Elle was glad but could she trust him? She certainly didn’t want them coming to the shop or her apartment, but perhaps this would show them she was serious about letting them see their grandson.

  “There’s a park about ten minutes from the restaurant we met at on Friday. You probably drove past it on your way,” she said.

  “I know the one.”

  “We could meet you there at five-thirty. There’s a playground Toby can use.” And it was a wide open space so no one could sneak up on them. Plus there were always people around.

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” He sounded relieved.

  Elle hung up, her stomach awash with nerves. She didn’t want to turn up without telling anyone where she was going.

  Her first thought was George.

  Which was utterly ridiculous. She should be considering Nora or Imogen even.

  She sighed. George was strong enough to help her if she needed it.

  Following her instinct, she phoned him. She had to talk to him about the book club anyway.

  “Hey, Elle,” he answered. His tone was warm.

  “Hi. I’m calling about the book club. You expressed an interest and we’re going to meet on Tuesday at two.”

  “Let me check my calendar.” There was silence before he came back on. “I’ll be there.”

  “Great.” She took a deep breath. “There’s something else.”

  “What’s wrong?” His tone was immediately concerned.

  “It’s probably nothing, but I wanted to tell someone about it. I’m meeting Martin and Lindsay this afternoon so they can play with Toby before going home.”

  “Where and when?”

  Elle gave him the details.

  “Do you want me to come with you?”

  She really did, but she didn’t want Lindsay to see him again and think they were an item. It would complicate matters.

  “No. I just wanted to make sure I told someone. We’ll only stay an hour or so and I’ll call you when I get home.”

  “I haven’t been for my jog today. That park has some good trails.”

  Elle smiled, already lighter. “Far be it for me to stop you from exercising.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on you both and won’t come near unless you need me.”

  “That would be great. I’ll wave if I need you.” She hoped he could hear how grateful she was.

  “I’ll call you later.”

  Elle hung up. Whatever this thing was between her and George, she was glad he was there.

  ***

  The rest of the day flew by as it always did when she wasn’t looking forward to something. She managed to lock up the café by twenty past five and get to the park on time, stopping only to buy a T-shirt to replace her uniform shirt. Martin and Lindsay were there, sitting on a park bench waiting.

  “Memah! Pepah!” The second Toby saw his grandparents he took off across the grass toward them.

  Elle locked up the car and followed more slowly.

  Toby flung himself at his grandfather, who picked him up and whirled him around, with Toby’s delighted shrieks filling the air.

  The guilt that was never far away slunk back.

  There had to be some way Elle could make this work. Toby only knew this set of grandparents and it wasn’t likely he would ever meet her parents. It wasn’t fair to punish either her son or his relatives because she and Dean hadn’t been able to make things work – or rather because Dean was such a jerk.

  As she crossed a path, a jogger came toward her. It was George. He was wearing loose black jogging shorts and a white T-shirt. His breathing was even as she gave him a brief smile but kept walking. By the time she reached the group, Lindsay had smothered Toby in kisses and he was dragging them toward the swing set.

  “You’ll push me real high, won’t you, Pepah?”

  Elle greeted them cautiously. Lindsay’s smile was forced, but Martin’s was genuine.

  “Thanks for meeting us today,” he said.

  “Toby missed you,” Elle said simply.

  “Come on, Pepah!” Toby tugged on Martin’s hand.

  “I’m going to sit down here while you play with your grandparents,” she told Toby. She wanted to give them space and the playground was only a dozen yards away.

  “OK.”

  He wasn’t the least bit concerned. He’d often spent time with his grandparents.

  Elle settled on the bench. It was a beautiful summer evening and there were a few other children playing at the playground. Several families had settled into the picnic area nearby to have dinner and there were a number of people riding or jogging along the path. Across the park George was setting a good pace. It was like having her own personal guardian angel.

  She breathed in deeply and her muscles relaxed.

  On Monday she would call the lawyers whose names Chris had given her. Why she hadn’t organized it sooner she didn’t know. She supposed there had been so much else to organize, what with finding a job and somewhere to live and getting away from the women’s shelter, which was entirely too depressing. Plus she hoped Dean wouldn’t care enough to search for her.

  Wishful thinking.

  He’d been so obsessed with her in the beginning that it had been overwhelming at first and oh so flattering. Boys had never really been interested in her at high school. She was average looking and had received high grades. She’d been one of the smart kids – pity her intelligence hadn’t stretched to members of the opposite sex.

  She’d met Dean at the café where she’d been waitressing after she started college. He’d been hunched over his laptop, frowning, and she’d been a little afraid to disturb him. When she’d asked for his order, he glanced up and his brown eyes had been so full of longing that s
he’d taken a step back. When he’d continued to stare at her, not really seeing her, she’d said, “Can I help you?”

  He’d blinked and focused even more intensely on her. “Yes, you’re perfect. You’re my heroine.”

  That had freaked her out, and she’d backed away. But he chuckled and said, “I’m a script writer. I was searching for inspiration for my latest heroine and here you are.” His smile had dazzled her. He was several years older and yet he thought she was perfect.

  At the end of her shift they’d gone for coffee and by the end of the week she was spending more time at his place than she was at college.

  It had been so thrilling to be wanted so desperately. He’d treated her like a princess, had told her she was his muse and had seduced her so slowly and passionately that she’d fallen in love.

  A month later she moved in with him, much to her parents’ dismay, and six months later she was pregnant. Of course Dean hadn’t wanted the baby but Elle was sure it would only bring them closer together.

  She’d been wrong.

  After Toby’s birth their relationship struggled until one day Dean had said they were moving to Texas to his parents’ ranch. There hadn’t been any consultation and Elle had still been desperate to make things right between them so she’d packed up, said goodbye to her parents and left.

  That was the last time she’d heard from them.

  Toby’s shrieks brought her back to the park and she smiled as Martin pushed him high on the swing.

  She was glad she’d come – glad she was able to give Toby time with his grandparents. Family was important.

  Toby got off the swing and Lindsay said something to him, pointing toward the bayou and the bridge that ran over it. There were ducks swimming along and Toby was keen to watch them. It was a little further away than Elle was comfortable with so she scanned the area. She didn’t like Toby near the water, even if he’d practiced swimming the evening before.

  It was then she spotted the man sitting on a bench on the other side of the bayou. It wasn’t so much his appearance that struck her, but the way he sat, hunched over and focused, very much like Dean when an idea struck him.

  And his focus was on her.

  Chapter 8

  He was sitting under the shade of one of the trees lining the bayou and it was difficult to distinguish his face properly, but Elle was certain it was Dean.

  They’d lied to her.

  Lindsay and Martin were getting closer to the bridge that led over the river to Dean. Elle leaped up.

  “Toby!” she called.

  Toby glanced back at her call and she hurried toward him.

  “It’s time to go.”

  “But I want to feed the ducks,” he said.

  Lindsay tugged him forward and out of the corner of Elle’s eye she saw the man rise. She didn’t want Toby to see his father; she wasn’t sure what reaction Toby would get.

  “We’ll feed the ducks another time,” she said as she reached them and grasped Toby’s hand.

  Toby stepped back into the protection of his grandmother’s arms and Lindsay smirked at her.

  “Please, Toby, we need to go.”

  “Let him feed the ducks.” It was Dean’s voice, loud but cajoling.

  Toby’s eyes widened in fear and he stepped toward Elle only to be held back by Lindsay.

  “Momma!” Toby reached for Elle.

  Fear swept across Elle’s body like a wild fire. Would Lindsay let any harm come to her grandson?

  Martin turned to his son. “You were supposed to be back at the ranch.” His voice was angry. Then he turned to his wife. “You called him.”

  “He has a right to see his son.” Her voice was shrill.

  “Let go of me.” Toby struggled against his grandmother.

  Anger rose in Elle as Toby was held against his will, but she turned her attention to Dean, who was now too close. He was the danger, but she needn’t have worried. Dean didn’t pay the slightest attention to Toby.

  His focus was all on her.

  That was fine for the moment. She reminded herself that Dean was always on his best behavior around his parents. There was no need for him to get violent now. Still she moved a couple of steps away to lure him from her son.

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You. It’s always been you.”

  Toby shrieked, “Let me go!”

  “Shut up, kid,” Dean roared and Toby stopped struggling, his eyes wide in fear, and he shrank back again into his grandmother’s arms. Dean blinked and his face smoothed into a smile. “Will you take him to the ducks?” he asked his mother, as sweet as could be. “I need to talk to my wife.”

  Martin shook his head at Lindsay and she stayed where she was, but Dean didn’t notice.

  Elle breathed a sigh of relief. They weren’t going to leave her alone with him. “I am not your wife.”

  He waved her words away and his tone was soothing. “Honey cakes, don’t be like that. We were so good together, we didn’t need the certificate.” It had been this tone that had convinced her everything was going to be all right, that he wouldn’t hit her again and that they had turned a corner to a bright future ahead.

  It was this tone that she’d believed time and time again.

  It was this tone that lied.

  “We’ve had a couple of rough moments, but we can get through them. We always have before. I haven’t been able to write a word since you left.”

  So that was the reason he’d come. Not because he missed her or loved her, but because his writing was suffering.

  “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have broken your toys,” she said. It was how she’d felt in the last couple of years. Like some kind of toy that he rolled out when he needed inspiration and kicked under the bed when it was not required. There’d been weeks of neglect, when she couldn’t get any response from him because inspiration had struck and he’d write from the time he woke up to the time he fell asleep, usually exhausted, at his desk.

  In the later years, those periods had been a blessing.

  Dean reached out a hand to placate her and she stepped away. “Don’t be like that. I’m sorry you left.”

  Yes, he was sorry she’d left, sorry he’d lost his muse, but not sorry for the way he’d treated her and Toby. Anger began to win out over her fear. “Dean, you’re violating your restraining order. You should leave before I call the police and have you arrested.”

  “There isn’t a piece of paper in this world that would keep me from you. Stop being silly. You’ve had your tantrum. Come home.”

  “So you can beat me again? So you can lock me in the house, neglect me, keep me by your side with no money and no one to turn to? I don’t need you now. I have friends and I have a job.”

  He was a little uncertain. Perhaps she was getting through to him.

  Toby was standing a few yards away, watching; Lindsay had let go of him, distracted by their conversation.

  “We are over and you need to move on. I’m sure there’s someone else out there who can be your muse.” Not that she’d wish Dean on anyone. She took a step toward Toby and held out her hand. He came running over and tucked himself into her side.

  Dean didn’t so much as glance at him. He was considering her words.

  “Hi, Elle, how are things?” George’s voice from behind made her want to groan. He couldn’t have chosen a worse moment. She’d told him to stay away unless she waved.

  “George!” Toby’s voice was delighted.

  Dean’s expression went dark, furious. “Who the hell is this?”

  There it was, the switch from calm to dangerous. She’d never seen him do it in front of his parents before. Her skin tight and every sense on high alert, Elle turned to George, keeping her tone light. “Oh, hey! What are you doing here? George, this is my ex, Dean; Dean, George is a friend of a friend.”

  “Bullshit. He’s your new lover, isn’t he? He’s the reason you left me? You’ve been having an affair with him all this time, while
I’ve been struggling to provide a living for us.”

  Elle wanted to wail. She’d been so close to a civil outcome until George had to interfere. She pressed Toby into her hip.

  “No. I only met him a couple of weeks ago.”

  Dean ignored her, turning on George. “Have you been fucking my wife? You’re not able to get your own woman so you have to go stealing from another man?”

  Lindsay gasped, put a hand over her mouth.

  Toby pushed further against Elle. She had to get them away before fists started flying.

  George held two hands up in front of him in the surrender motion. “No. I was on a run – I saw Elle here and thought I’d say hello.”

  Dean wasn’t going to listen to a word he said.

  “It was nice seeing you, George. Tell Imogen I said hey.” Elle kept her voice light but her expression said, Get the hell away.

  George hesitated.

  “You’d better finish your jog, I don’t want you to cool down too much.”

  “I’m sure you don’t,” Dean snarled. “You want him hot for you.”

  Elle turned back to Dean and his parents, who’d approached when Dean had raised his voice.

  “Isn’t this the man you were talking to in the coffee shop the other day?” Lindsay asked.

  Elle wanted to throttle the woman. Instead she said, “Yes. He’s familiar with Houston and was giving me some tips.”

  It sounded lame to her ears but she couldn’t tell them the truth.

  “You’re a whore,” Dean hissed. “You sucked me in with your innocent eyes but it turns out you knew exactly what you’re doing. You probably fuck everything that moves. I wonder if the kid is even mine.”

  She wanted so desperately to say he wasn’t. To say she had cheated on Dean and Toby was the result, but it wasn’t fair to her child. He had a right to know his lineage, who his grandparents were and where he belonged.

  “You believe whatever you want, Dean,” she said instead. She had to get out of there, had to trust Dean would behave in front of his parents, had to trust George would have enough sense to leave when she did – in the opposite direction. “Goodbye.”