The Texan Quartet (Books 1-4) Omnibus

by Claire Boston

He’d said he loved her and she’d ignored him, kicked him out.

  She wasn’t sure how she could make it right. “I’ll call him later,” she said.

  Toby stirred then, and when he opened his eyes and saw Kate, he woke straight up. “Hi, Kate! What are you doing here?” He pushed himself up in bed and Elle had to stop him from jumping out.

  “No you don’t. You haven’t been well,” she said, putting a firm hand on his arm.

  “I’m fine now.”

  He looked fine as well. His skin was a normal color and wasn’t too hot or too cold. Kate walked closer to him, on the other side of the bed from Elle.

  “Gosh, you scared me, Toby,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” She gave him a hug.

  He grinned and hugged her back. The two of them starting chatting and Elle closed her eyes. He really was going to be fine.

  Libby put a hand on her arm and leaned down to hug her. “It was pretty scary, huh?”

  Elle nodded, blinking back the tears. There was no need for them now.

  “Do you want us to stay for a while? Or is there anything else you need?”

  “You can stay.”

  “Mom, I’m hungry,” Toby complained.

  “I’ll go and find a nurse,” Libby said and Elle smiled her thanks.

  She sat back in her chair, listening to Kate and Toby chatter.

  Toby was going to be fine.

  ***

  It didn’t take long for the glass to be replaced. The company arrived just after George, and was finished in about half an hour.

  Inside, Imogen swept the floors while Chris cleaned up the remaining mess in the kitchen with Imogen’s cousin, Sadie. Adrian and Cece, Imogen’s other cousin, cleared up the playroom.

  Hank examined the damage to the tables and chairs while George worked methodically, taking notes of what was needed.

  Elle would have to get a new cake display and all the food inside needed to be replaced. He wrote down what was in there before throwing the whole lot into the trash.

  He examined the coffee machine, but couldn’t tell if it had been damaged. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to put a lid on his frustration. Imogen came behind the counter to empty her dustpan and start sweeping up the glass from the cake cabinet.

  Hell, he hated this. He hated that the bastard could do this to Elle. Dean had obviously never loved her. He knew if he met Dean again, in his current mood, he wouldn’t be responsible for his own actions.

  He picked up the cash register and heaved it back onto the counter, connecting it back to the power. His movements were jerky and the anger seeped into his muscles. He glanced up at the books. The word WHORE leaped out at him.

  He had to get rid of it.

  Now.

  He stormed over to the wall and started pulling books off the shelf, throwing them on to the floor. Inside his head he raged.

  A hand on George’s shoulder had him spinning and his fist rising – until he recognized Adrian.

  Panting, George lowered his hand.

  “Let’s take a walk,” Adrian suggested.

  George stared at him. What the hell? “There’s work to be done here.”

  “You’re making it worse,” Adrian commented mildly.

  George looked around. He’d covered the floor in books. He swore, and then headed for the door.

  ***

  Adrian caught up with him outside and they walked in silence, George’s stride eating up the pavement.

  Suddenly he stopped and turned to Adrian. “This is bullshit.”

  “What is?”

  “This whole mess. We know it was Dean: the police should arrest him and throw his ass in jail.”

  “They need proof,” Adrian reminded him. “I understand how helpless you’re feeling,” he said, putting a hand on George’s shoulder. “I remember what it was like with my dad and being powerless to stop him. If someone was doing this to Libby, I’d be furious.”

  “Yeah, well, I am.”

  Not that it helped.

  “Have you spoken to Elle about staying at your place?” Adrian asked.

  George shook his head. “I’m not sure she’ll want to. She hates me right now. I can’t blame her. I almost killed Toby.” His voice cracked and he kept walking.

  God, shouldn’t there be a limit to the amount of guilt and anger you could feel at once? He was being weighed down by it; he was drowning in it.

  “Don’t be stupid.” The harsh tone Adrian used was so unlike him that George stopped walking.

  “You’re meant to be the sensible one out of the two of us, the one who’s got his head on straight. I can’t believe I’m hearing this shit from you.”

  George gaped at him.

  “It is not your fault Toby got heat stroke, just like it’s not Kate’s. They hadn’t been playing very long at all. If you put your normal rational hat on, you’d see it. From the time you took Elle upstairs to going back outside was maybe ten minutes. Don’t fool yourself by thinking you would have noticed it any sooner than you did. What you did do is save the kid’s life. You knew exactly what to do and you got him straight to the hospital.”

  It wasn’t often Adrian got mad. It wasn’t often he spoke so much all at once. Those two facts squeezed through George’s self-loathing.

  “I don’t know how to make it right.” The admission helped.

  “You’ll talk to Elle,” Adrian said. “That’s what you do best. And together you’ll work it out.”

  George raked a hand through his hair.

  “Besides, you’re helping to clean up the café – when you’re not throwing books on the ground – so that’s got to count for something.”

  Maybe it would. He didn’t know any more.

  “Come on.” Adrian slapped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s too hot out here to argue. We can do that in the air-conditioned comfort of Eat, Drink, Read.”

  Some of the anger dissolved. Adrian was right. It wasn’t like him to wallow. He was better when he was fixing things.

  He turned around and followed Adrian back to the café.

  Chapter 19

  It was a couple of hours before the doctor came around again to check on Toby and gave him the all clear to go home. Elle chatted to Libby to keep her mind off what had happened, while Kate kept Toby amused.

  When Toby was discharged, Libby took them home. Elle was glad she didn’t have to drive. Her brain was sluggish and the exhaustion that followed such fear was setting in.

  When they pulled up in front of Elle’s apartment, Libby asked, “Do you want us to come in?”

  Elle shook her head. She wanted to sit on the couch with a cold drink and rest. “Thank you for your help.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” Libby said and smiled at her.

  Elle climbed out of the car and took Toby’s hand. He was beginning to flag now, his short nap not quite enough to carry him through the rest of the day. The doctor had recommended more fluids and had given Elle some electrolytes to put into water to further hydrate him.

  She waved goodbye to Libby and Kate and took him upstairs to the apartment. Once inside she settled him on the couch with a book and went into the kitchen to get them both a drink.

  She’d just nestled in next to Toby on the couch when someone knocked on the door. She must have left something in Libby’s car. She answered it without checking the peephole.

  Dean stood there, one hand on the doorframe, the other holding a cigarette.

  He’d been watching the apartment.

  A chill ran through her body.

  She had a weakened child sitting on the couch who couldn’t run from danger if he needed to. Anger rose and burst out of her. “What the hell do you want?”

  “Now, now, Elle. That’s no way to greet me. Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

  “No.” She stepped forward to block the entrance. What she really wanted to do was slam the door in his face, but she controlled the urge. Somehow she had to get through to him that the
y were over, that he had no right over what she and Toby did for the rest of their lives.

  Dean took a drag on his cigarette and blew the smoke in her face. Elle blinked but didn’t back up. “You need to come back to me, Elle. I haven’t been able to write since you left.”

  There was no “I miss you” or “I love you”: it was all about the writing. That’s all it had ever been about for him.

  It had taken her so long to realize it.

  Being calm and rational wouldn’t work with Dean. Being nice in hope he would leave her alone was pointless. The only thing he would respond to was danger to himself.

  “No.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell. She was sick of this, sick of him. “I will never come back to you, and you will never be part of my or Toby’s life.” She dialed nine one one. “I’m calling the police. You’re breaching your restraining order.”

  Dean gaped at her and his expression switched from calm to furious in an instant. “You’re not getting me arrested, bitch.” He stepped forward and grabbed her arms.

  Elle saw red. She kneed him in the groin, and felt immense satisfaction as he grunted in pain. Using all her weight, she shoved him so he fell backward away from the door and slammed it, locking it. She focused on the phone in her hand. “I need the police. My ex is breaking his restraining order. He’s here at my house – he grabbed me.” She gave them her address.

  Outside Dean cursed and then suddenly he started banging on her door, screaming obscenities at her.

  “Mom?” Toby’s frightened voice came from the couch.

  “It’s OK, baby. The police are on their way.” She could hear the sirens in the distance, but she wasn’t willing to leave the door to comfort him. She didn’t know how sturdy her locks were. The door vibrated behind her.

  Toby was still wobbly on his feet, she knew, but she needed him out of the room in case Dean broke through. “Why don’t you go and lie in bed and I’ll get you when the police arrive?”

  Toby shook his head. He stood up and came to stand next to her, his back against the door. “I’ll help.”

  Elle closed her eyes as she fought her panic. She didn’t want her baby to be hurt. She needed to get rid of Dean.

  She raised her voice. “You can find a new muse in jail,” she shouted at Dean.

  The pounding stopped as the sirens got louder.

  “I’m not going to jail for you. You can’t prove anything.”

  “You broke into my café,” she yelled. “The cops have evidence.”

  Dean swore and then there was the sound of pounding feet, a curse, a scuffle and then silence.

  Elle peered out the peephole but couldn’t see anything.

  “I think he’s gone, Toby-boy. Why don’t you go over behind the couch?” She needed to get him somewhere safe.

  A knock on the door made her gasp. She checked and saw a police officer outside. Relief flushed through her and she opened the door.

  “Miss Carter?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “We caught Mr. Williams downstairs. Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” Her heart might still be racing, but she was unhurt.

  “I’ll need to get your statement.”

  “Of course.” She stood back and let him in and then picked up Toby and hugged him. “It’s back to the couch for you,” she said, her voice as cheerful as she could make it, carrying him to the couch and handing him his drink. “Drink up.” She was trying so hard to hide her fear from him.

  She went back to close the door and noticed the squashed cigarette butt on the ground. Officer Harlam had found a butt in the café. Elle hurried back inside, grabbed a plastic sandwich bag from the kitchen, and carefully flicked the butt into it and zipped it up.

  If they could match prints or DNA to this one, they could prove it was Dean.

  She shut the front door, her limbs shaky.

  “Are you all right, ma’am?” the officer asked, having settled himself on a kitchen chair with his notebook on the table.

  “There was a break-in at my café last night. They found a cigarette butt. I think it was Dean – and he was smoking when he was here.” She held out the bag.

  “Which officer was assigned to the case?” the police officer asked.

  “Officers Oslow and Harlam.”

  “I’ll see that they get it.”

  The officer asked her some questions and Elle answered as accurately as she could. When it was done, she walked him out.

  Shutting the door, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  She’d stood up to Dean, she’d protected her son and, if the DNA turned out to be a match, he might just be out of her life forever.

  She hoped so.

  ***

  The next morning, Elle slept late again. When she woke she heard Toby playing quietly in his room. Quickly she got up and went to check on him. He was sitting on the floor in his pajamas and from what she could gather his cowboy had been injured and was in hospital.

  “It’s all right, Cowboy Chris,” he was saying. “Astronaut George got you to hospital in time.”

  George.

  Elle had avoided thinking about George and what he’d said. It had been too much to deal with yesterday, but today was a new day, and Toby was perfectly fine.

  “Morning, Toby-boy. Do you want some breakfast?” she asked.

  Toby turned. “Morning, Mom. I’ve already had some, thanks.”

  Elle frowned. “Who got it for you?”

  “I got it myself.”

  Elle put a hand on his forehead to check his temperature. “How are you feeling?”

  “Good.” He pushed her hand away and continued his game.

  The residual worry melted away. He was back to normal. Elle walked into the kitchen to find the box of cereal on the table with a few flakes next to it. Toby’s empty bowl was also there, surrounded by a puddle of milk.

  Her little boy was definitely growing up. She’d have to teach him how to clean up after himself next.

  She wiped up the mess and poured herself a coffee. She didn’t want to eat.

  The insurance policy documents on the table reminded her of the café. She had to go and clean up, make sure everything was all right.

  She shouldn’t put it off. It wasn’t going to go away and it meant she could avoid thinking about George for a little longer.

  The last thing she wanted was for Toby to see the mess, but she wasn’t ready to be parted from him yet.

  “Toby, let’s get ready to go out. We need to go to the café.”

  ***

  An hour later they were standing outside the café. The boards had been replaced by a new, clean window and someone had put a sign on the door to say closed until further notice.

  Elle sighed, and unlocked the door. She flicked on the lights and stared. She blinked a few times just to make sure she wasn’t seeing what she wanted to see.

  There was no glass on the floor.

  The broken chairs and tables had been neatly stacked and the spray-painted books were gone, leaving gaps on the shelves.

  Toby pushed past her and headed for the playroom, bringing Elle back to the present.

  “Wait a second, Toby,” she said taking his hand. She wanted to check everything out first.

  Together they walked to the back of the shop. The cake display was empty – all the broken glass had been removed and it had been cleaned – the cash register was back in place on the bench and there wasn’t a bit of mess anywhere.

  In the playroom, there was a box containing the ripped-up books but everything else was tidy.

  “Mom, what happened to my books?” Toby asked.

  “The person who broke in tore them up, Toby-boy. We’ll get new ones.” She gave him a hug. “Can you play here for a bit while I look around?”

  He nodded.

  In the small kitchen everything had been put back, though she did notice one or two things in the wrong spot. She fixed them, still trying to work out what had happened.<
br />
  Over on the bench top there was a sheet of paper. She immediately recognized George’s writing. It was a list of all the things that needed replacing, including a list of the damaged books with publisher, author and title in columns.

  Her hand clenched, scrunching the list a bit. Her head swam.

  Pulling out one of the chairs in the café, she sat down, still staring at the list. George had come here, after he’d left the hospital, after the way she had treated him, and had cleaned the whole café.

  She closed her eyes.

  Why would he do that?

  He loved her.

  He’d told her but she hadn’t believed him. All this proved it.

  Actions spoke so much louder than words. Why else would someone do this, come and clean up the mess, after the way she’d treated him, if it weren’t for love? Could it be guilt?

  Elle shook her head. She was searching for a different explanation, but in her heart she knew the truth.

  So if George loved her, where did that leave her?

  She hadn’t let herself think about him, think about how she felt, what she wanted. Hadn’t wanted to. The idea of another relationship, of being trapped like she had been with Dean, still scared her. But to compare George with Dean was like comparing a Ferrari with a Smart car.

  George was so much more in every way. She sighed. One thing she knew for certain was she needed to apologize to him.

  Wanting to find out more about what happened, Elle called Imogen.

  “How’s Toby?” Imogen asked when she heard it was Elle.

  “It’s like yesterday didn’t happen,” Elle said.

  “I’m so glad.”

  “Imogen, I’m at the café. Who did all this work?”

  “George went down to let the glass people in and a few of us went to help clean up. I hope that’s all right?” Imogen sounded concerned.

  “It’s amazing,” Elle told her. “I was expecting a mess, so it was lovely to find everything tidy.”

  “I’m glad.”

  After thanking her and hanging up, Elle made her own checks of the café. George had been thorough. There wasn’t anything she needed to add to his list.

  She began making phone calls, arranging a new cake cabinet and ordering chairs to replace those that had been broken. She also placed a new order for cakes and cookies to be delivered during the week. The break-in wasn’t going to stop her for long.