The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus

by Claire Boston

  She disappeared back down the hallway.

  George grinned and focused on the boy in front of him. “What time is it?”

  “The clock in my room had a five first, then a zero and a seven.”

  George swallowed a groan. Way too early to be up in his book, especially since he’d lain awake for hours after Elle had left, thinking about the kiss, about her and about how to deal with her violent ex.

  “What do you normally have for breakfast?” he asked as he stood up and stretched again.

  “Cereal.”

  “Right, let’s see what we can find.” He took Toby into the kitchen and the boy showed him where everything was. By the time Elle returned they were both sitting at the table chatting and eating their breakfast.

  Elle stopped at the kitchen doorway and George studied her. She must have taken the time to have a quick shower because her hair was damp and she was already dressed in her work clothes: the black, hip-hugging skirt and the neat shirt with the shop’s logo on it. She was divine.

  “Coffee?” George asked, getting to his feet.

  She blinked at him. “Yes, please.” She rubbed her arms, hesitated and then poured a bowl of cereal and sat next to her son. She was obviously used to doing everything.

  Well, he could help now.

  He put the coffee in front of Elle and took his seat next to her. Their knees bumped and she flinched.

  He hoped it was just because she was unused to the situation and not because she was regretting their kiss. Finishing his breakfast, he cleared his and Toby’s bowls and washed them.

  “What time do you need to leave?” he asked.

  Elle checked her watch. “Damn. About ten minutes.” She was only halfway through her cereal, but she stood.

  George held out a hand. “Finish your breakfast. Toby and I can get him ready, can’t we, kiddo?”

  “Yep,” Toby said.

  Toby ran down the hallway to his room and George found him digging through his drawers.

  “I’m going to wear my superhero shorts and top today. Then I can pretend I’m like you, protecting Mom from the bad people.”

  George’s smile froze on his face. He kneeled down. “Toby, kiddo, I admire you for wanting to protect your mom, but you could get hurt. Your dad is a lot bigger than you.”

  Toby scowled. “He’s not nice. I wish he wasn’t my dad. Can’t you be my dad?”

  George swallowed past the lump in his throat. What the hell did he say? Was he being unfair to the kid by spending so much time with him when things between him and Elle might not work out? He’d not considered it from Toby’s point of view before.

  “It’s not that easy,” he said instead. “How about we go brush your teeth and then you can get ready?”

  “All right.”

  George followed Toby into the bathroom, the reality of what Elle and Toby as a pair really meant hovering over him.

  ***

  Elle dropped George off at his place just before six. George waved goodbye to the ever enthusiastic and wide-awake Toby and then trudged inside.

  He was tired.

  The temptation to slip into bed and get another hour’s sleep was strong. Instead he went into his kitchen, put on his coffee machine, and headed for the shower to wash the fatigue away.

  Standing under the spray, letting the warm water flow over him, he reviewed his situation.

  He was involved with a woman who had a beautiful five-year-old boy and an abusive ex-husband.

  Dean didn’t scare him. He’d spent the early part of Adrian’s career dealing with possessive fans and even now one occasionally popped up.

  No, he was more worried about Toby. How would Toby react if he and Elle split up? What would it do to his already fragile state? He needed to be so careful. He didn’t want to lose either of them, but he needed to consider Toby more than he had been.

  He didn’t want to hurt the kid.

  ***

  Elle rearranged the plate of cookies for a third time and stepped back. It was fine. She didn’t know why she was so nervous about her first book-club meeting.

  She was lying to herself. She knew exactly why she was nervous. George would be there.

  He’d called her yesterday to check how she was and they’d talked for an hour. He made her laugh. He was able to do it so easily and she felt as if it had been so long since she’d really laughed.

  Dean had always been too controlled, never indulged in moments of whimsy and silliness, though Toby had often made her smile.

  But George made her laugh out loud with stories of his day and tales of his childhood. She was unable to follow suit. Talking about her childhood made her so sad. She didn’t know how she’d ever repair the bridge which had burned down when she’d left with Dean, was too scared of rejection now to reach out and try.

  The bell over the door jangled and one of Elle’s regulars walked in. It was such a thrill to say she had regulars, and this woman, Jude, had been the first to put her name down for the book club.

  “Hi, Jude; we’re over here today.”

  “Howdy, Elle. You’ve set this up so nicely.”

  Elle smiled at the woman. “Thanks. Take a seat. Do you want the usual?”

  “That’d be great.”

  Happy to keep her mind busy, Elle went to make Jude’s drink. She’d decided she would provide a free drink and cookies and when that was gone, people could buy their own.

  When she returned to the area, another guest had joined Jude, this one a little younger, possibly in her early thirties. After the introductions were made and Elle had turned to make Bethanie’s order, someone else entered the café.

  Bethanie looked up and under her breath said, “Hubba, hubba. I hope he’s coming to our group.”

  Elle turned as George walked toward them. She raised a hand in greeting and said to Bethanie, “He is.”

  “Thank the lord. Is he taken?”

  Elle didn’t know what to say. Was he taken? Was what they had with each other exclusive? They’d said they’d be friends but that was before. They’d not discussed what the kiss meant to their friends status.

  George answered the question when he reached her. “Hey, beautiful,” he said and kissed her on the mouth, longer than was perhaps proper in this situation.

  Bethanie whispered, “Damn it.”

  Elle stepped back, flustered and George grinned at her. “Hi.” She blinked, willing her blush away. “George, this is Jude and Bethanie.” She took George’s order and let them talk while she escaped to make the drinks.

  Nora met her at the coffee machine. “When did that happen?” she asked.

  Elle wanted to pretend not to know what Nora was talking about but her friend would keep on at it until she got an answer. “Sunday.”

  “Girl, you’ve been keeping secrets. You need to tell me all about it after work.”

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk to anyone about what was happening with her and George.

  She wasn’t sure she understood it herself.

  She took the drinks over and busied herself with introductions.

  The book club was a mixture of ages and races, with George the only male. Maria was a Hispanic woman in her eighties, who’d insisted her daughter and granddaughter come along too, Nicole was an African-American woman who’d just retired from her high-powered corporate job and was looking for something to fill her spare time, and Jude and Bethanie, who were both mothers whose children were at school. George’s sister Isla hadn’t been able to make it. It took George all of five minutes to charm the women there.

  There was something about him that was so easy and likable.

  They discussed books they’d read over the last few months, made recommendations to each other and argued about what types of books they should cover in their book club. Elle solved the argument by suggesting everyone took a turn at choosing the book and had them choose a number out of a box to decide what order they would go in.

  “How much time do you need to
order the books?” George asked Elle.

  Elle hesitated. “You don’t all have to buy from me,” she said. She couldn’t compete with the prices of online retailers and she wasn’t going to force the group to buy from her.

  “I read all my books on my e-reader,” the Latino grandmother said. “Bigger text.”

  George was waiting for an answer.

  “It would depend on the publisher but maybe two weeks.”

  “So if the person who chooses next calls Elle two weeks before the meeting, she can order enough books so those who want them can pick them up at the meeting.”

  The others nodded. Half of them were happy for her to order the books.

  As the mothers were packing up to go and pick their children up from after-school care, Toby arrived back with Harry and Miranda in tow.

  He saw the group and made a beeline toward it, ignoring his mother completely and going straight over to George.

  “Hey, George!”

  “Hey, kiddo.” George hugged Toby and pulled him on to his lap. “How was your day?”

  “Great.” Toby launched into his tale but Elle didn’t hear it. She was too caught up in the picture they made together. The sexy, kind man, chatting quite happily with her five-year-old son. She couldn’t remember a time when she’d found Toby sitting on Dean’s lap, telling him about his day.

  “That’s a pretty picture,” Jude said and winked at Elle.

  It was.

  Her heart squeezed so tightly in her chest she wasn’t sure she’d be able to breathe.

  “See you next month,” Bethanie said, breaking Elle’s focus.

  Elle blinked and said goodbye to the women.

  Not quite sure what to do about her heart.

  ***

  That evening Elle was sitting on Toby’s bed reading him a bedtime story, when Toby asked, “Momma, why doesn’t Dad like me?” He fiddled with his sheet, clenching and unclenching it, not looking at her.

  Elle stared at the page in front of her. What could she say? “Honey, your dad isn’t very well. Most men don’t hit women and children. Your dad is an exception and he doesn’t really like either of us.”

  “He only talks to me when he’s yelling.”

  Elle brought her arm around her son and hugged him close. “I know.” She could hardly deny it. “You need to remember I love you so much and so do your Memah and Pepah and your uncles.”

  Toby frowned. “Memah and Pepah are Dad’s mom and dad, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are your mom and dad?” He squinted at her. “Do they not love us either?”

  Elle hesitated. She didn’t know the answer. “They live in California, which is a long way from here. I’ll show you on the map when we next get it out.”

  “Is it too far to drive?”

  “No, but it would take a long time – two or three days.”

  Toby was silent while he thought about it. What was his mind running through?

  Finally he asked, “Will George become like Dad?”

  “No, honey.” The answer was immediate and she stopped for a moment to consider why. George had a kindness Dean had never had. She knew for certain he would never hit either of them.

  “Good. I like George.”

  Elle wasn’t sure she liked where the conversation was heading. They’d only known George for two and a half weeks. It wasn’t long enough to get to know someone. “Do you want me to finish the story?”

  Toby considered it. “Yes, please, Mom.” He hugged her tightly. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  After she’d finished the story and tucked Toby into bed, she sat on the couch with a cup of tea.

  Her little boy was growing up. He was asking the kinds of questions she’d known he’d ask eventually. What child didn’t want to know where he came from?

  But she really didn’t know how to answer him about her family.

  When she’d left California she’d written them letters – Dean had said it was more personal than email and he was always using the single laptop they had anyway – but all of them had been unanswered.

  She’d been sure her brother would have at least responded, but there’d been nothing from him.

  Since she’d left Dean, she had considered contacting them, but a mixture of pride and fear stopped her. She didn’t want to go crawling back, showing them they’d been right about Dean and begging for help. She would have received, at best, ‘I told you so’ and, at worst, full rejection. She hadn’t been in a mental state where she could have coped with the rejection.

  Now however she was doing better. The café was running fine so far, though it was too early to tell whether it would continue its success. She could call or write and tell them of her changed circumstances, in case they wanted to get in touch.

  But still fear entwined itself into her. Her mother had told her she was making a mistake, her father had asked her not to go, but neither had ever checked if she was doing OK. They knew little about Toby.

  She sighed.

  Part of her reluctance was also anger. She’d been the perfect daughter all through her childhood and the one time she’d done something they disagreed with, they had turned on her. James’s betrayal was the worst of all. She’d idolized him and had loved him so much – her big brother had always been there for her – until she’d really needed him.

  The phone rang and she answered it before the ringing could wake Toby.

  “I had fun at the book club today.”

  George.

  Just the sound of his voice made her smile.

  “I’m glad. You certainly charmed all the women there. They all wanted to take you home.”

  “There’s only one woman I want to take me home,” he answered.

  Elle blushed and said, “If you’d told Maria, she would have ordered her girls to put you in the car.”

  George chuckled. “You know who I mean.”

  Elle was silent.

  “Is Toby already in bed?”

  “Yes. I just turned out his light.” She sighed, thinking about the conversation they’d had.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Should she tell him? Should she share her concerns with a man she really didn’t know very well but had become part of her life so quickly?

  “Is he sick?”

  “No.” She paused. “He asked me why his dad didn’t like him.”

  “Oh. What did you say?”

  “I said he was unwell.”

  “You’re right. From what I’ve seen of your ex, he’s pretty extreme.”

  It was a relief to hear it coming from someone like George.

  “How did Toby take it?”

  “I’m not sure. He thought about it, asked some more questions and then seemed all right as long as I love him and so do his Memah and Pepah.”

  “What about your parents? Do they see him much?”

  The question echoed Toby’s earlier one and it took Elle by surprise. She’d not mentioned her parents: they could be dead for all he knew. But suddenly she had the urge to tell someone about the situation, to confide in.

  “They haven’t seen him since he was a baby. When I left with Dean, they weren’t happy and we fought. I tried writing to them, but they never responded.”

  “Writing? As in letters?”

  Elle chuckled. “Yes. You remember those old fashioned things? Bits of paper, and a writing implement? Though I used a pen not a quill.”

  “Who sent them?” George asked slowly.

  “Dean.” He’d controlled everything, including the mail.

  There was a pause and then George’s voice was quiet. “Are you sure he sent them?”

  The question was like a thunderclap in her ears. At that time of her life she was still in love with Dean. It never occurred to her that he wouldn’t have sent her letters to her parents.

  But what if he hadn’t?

  What if they thought she’d left and wanted nothing more to do with them?

>   What if they’d tried to write and Dean hadn’t given her their letters? She knew he’d given them the address of the ranch – she’d made sure.

  But had he given the right address?

  She hadn’t known where she was going to check it was correct.

  “Are you still there?”

  George’s concern broke through her what ifs. “Yes. I don’t know. I never considered … I was still in love …” She couldn’t explain.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  Yes.

  “No.” She couldn’t follow her pattern of letting a man take over her life. There were some things she had to work out on her own. “I need to think about this. I’ll call you later.” She hung up before he could argue, and stared into space.

  Would Dean have really done that to her?

  It was possible.

  But then, her parents could have tracked her down. They knew Dean’s surname, they knew the ranch was in Texas and the nearest major city was Houston. They hadn’t tried to call or visit.

  Maybe they didn’t want to see her after all.

  How she could find out the truth?

  Was she brave enough to pick up the phone and call them?

  She shook her head. No, not yet. She had to consider it some more, not rush into anything.

  She could use the computer she had at the café to look them up. James had been into social media before she’d left and she might even be able to remember her own passwords, if the accounts hadn’t been closed due to inactivity.

  If she wasn’t too busy tomorrow, she’d take an hour and do some research.

  She closed her eyes, satisfied she’d worked out the next step.

  If Dean had hidden correspondence from her family, she’d take the first step to fix things.

  To find Toby more family.

  Chapter 10

  George was too busy at work to be worrying about Elle, but that didn’t stop him. She’d sounded shocked and confused when he’d suggested Dean had lied to her about her parents, but she hadn’t wanted to turn to him for help.

  He’d been on his way out the door to go anyway when Isla had called, and after he’d explained the situation she’d told him flat out he couldn’t go over.

  Unfortunately, her reasoning had been sound, but it didn’t mean he liked it, or that he hadn’t fretted all night whether Elle was all right.