Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(2)

God, she hated him.

Her day had definitely taken a turn for the worse already. That was another one of the problems with small towns. If you hated someone, it was absolutely impossible to avoid them. And she got paid on tips, which meant she had to be nice. So Holly pasted a smile on her face, held the door open for the others to file in, and sucked it up. “Take a seat anywhere, boys. I’ll be with you in a jif.”



* * *



? ? ?

Adam Calhoun did his best to ignore their waitress as he took off his hat and hung it on a peg near the door. It was clear she loathed him and was pretending for the tip. He hated that sort of thing, and it just made him want to stiff her even more. She was so obvious about it, too, her smile fake and sweet as she poured cups of coffee and took orders. She didn’t even glance at him as she took his down, just focused on her pad as she wrote. She had plenty of smiles for Carson and Jason, though, which just irked him.

It wasn’t that he was ugly. Most women thought he was nice-looking. Adam was just vain enough to know that he had a good smile and a decent personality, and that usually let him get the attention of most women he flirted with. Most. Because waitress Holly was probably the prettiest thing in this town—and several others around—and yet she couldn’t stand him. He drained his coffee cup while the others ordered and then held it in the air, a silent request for more.

Her eyes flashed with anger momentarily, and it was quickly covered up by that fake smile again. “Be right back.”

She hustled off, her round bottom shaking with every step, and okay, he was red-blooded male enough to watch.

“Now you’re just baiting her,” Jason commented, sipping his own cup.

Maybe he was. There was something about Holly that drove him absolutely up a wall. Maybe it was that she was always all smiles, even when she clearly didn’t feel like it. Her clothes were a little tighter than they probably should have been, her festive red sweater practically painted on her lush figure, and her jeans showing off her curves. Her dark brown hair was pulled up into a bouncy long ponytail atop her head and fastened with a big, garish Christmas bow. She looked festive and flirty and it irked him.

Maybe it was that the first time he’d come in, she’d flirted up a storm with him and so he’d tipped well. He’d even come back later that night, after thinking about her all afternoon, only to see her flirting with another customer like she’d done with him, and he’d realized it was all for tips. It made him angry. Made him feel stupid. So he’d left a dollar.

He’d left a dollar ever since, too. Just to make a statement.

He had a dollar sitting in his wallet today, waiting for the opportunity to poke at her again.

Holly brought back the coffee, taking his mug with a cool expression and filling it quickly. “Separate checks today, boys?”

Jason raised a finger before Adam could answer. “One check. I’m paying for lunch today.”

“In that case, make my sandwich a double,” Adam drawled. “Didn’t know it was free.”

The waitress’s demeanor brightened. “Well, aren’t you sweet, Jason Clements.” She winked at him. “You want me to pack up a sandwich for your lovely wife, too? The bread’s nice and fresh and I can make hers with extra pickles, just as she likes.”

Jason nodded. “That’s a great idea. Thanks.”

“I’ll have it ready by the time you leave.” She touched Carson’s shoulder, then leaned over him to pour his coffee, and Adam found himself staring at her tits. She wasn’t shoving them in anyone’s face but . . . how did she expect a man to concentrate when she wore a sweater like that? Ridiculous. She patted Carson’s shoulder again, then turned and left, swanning her way to another table full of men. A moment later, her bright laughter floated through the saloon, and it made him grit his teeth.

“You’re glaring,” Jason commented to Adam.

He shook his head. “I bet she forgets my order. That’s all.” He leaned back in his chair. “So, what’s the special occasion today?” They came into town once or twice a week for lunch if weather—and the work—permitted. Normally they paid for their own, though. Adam didn’t mind that. Sure, the boss had married a wealthy woman and could afford to pay, but if Adam couldn’t pay for his own sandwiches, he needed a new line of work.

Jason pulled out a couple of red and green envelopes and slid them across the table to both of them. “Sorry about the glitter. Sage wanted a festive envelope.” He gestured at them. “I’m giving you your Christmas bonuses early because I need to ask a favor.”

Adam picked up his envelope and casually glanced inside. The check was for more than two months’ pay. Damn. That was generous. “Whatever the favor is, I’ll do it.”

“You might want to hear what it is first.” He leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his short, military-precision haircut. “Me and Sage decided we’re going to take the kids and visit family back east for the holidays. We’re going to be gone until after New Year’s.”

Adam glanced over at Carson, but the man was impassive. He never talked unless directly prompted, and he didn’t look as if he had anything to say about this, either. “Kinda a long holiday,” Adam ventured. “Something going on?”

Jason rubbed his neck, clearly uneasy. “Sage needs a vacation. She says she doesn’t, but I want her to get away for a while. To relax. The stress isn’t good for her . . . or the new baby.”