Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(21)

Adam liked Christmas well enough, he supposed, but you needed someone to spend the holiday with. All he had was Carson, who was leaving just before the actual day itself, and Holly, who got on his last damn nerve. So it felt extra silly to be at a holiday festival, when he wasn’t feeling particularly festive at all.

“You look like you need a scarf, young man,” a woman called out from her booth. He turned and saw an older woman with a frosted globe of hair that stuck out over her coat. She beamed at him and held out a pink knitted scarf. “Maybe a gift for your girlfriend.”

He smiled politely but didn’t reach for the item. “No girlfriend, but thank you, ma’am.”

“No girlfriend?” She pretended to look shocked. “Then you should meet my Stacey! She happens to be alone for the holidays and wouldn’t mind a dance or two in the town square with a handsome young man.” She gave him another fake-innocent look. “The dancing starts in an hour.”

Annnnd this was why he hated small-town festivals. Because if it wasn’t full of things he didn’t need—craft jams, hand-knitted mittens, and decorative needlework—someone was trying to set him up with their daughter.

He wondered if it was too early to get a beer. Maybe he’d text Carson and tell him to bring a six-pack if they were going to get through the day.



* * *



? ? ?

The day seemed endless.

It really shouldn’t have. Holly had gotten her cake in just on time, and the judges had exclaimed over how beautiful it looked. It had filled Holly with such pride as she showed it off. This was her chance to show everyone what she could do. That she wasn’t just some local dropout with no skills. She could show them that she had a passion and a talent for baking, and she was happy to share that. Really, the cake couldn’t have gone better. She was so pleased with it. She’d seen some of the other entries and they looked fine, but they also looked homemade. Hers was professional quality, and she couldn’t wait to see what they had to say about it.

She’d pull aside the judges after the fact and let them know she was looking for work on the side, that she could bake for their shops and they could grow business together. This was her moment. This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for.

Maybe that was why every minute crept past as if it was an hour long.

Work was incredibly busy, too. Her idea for the table of Christmas eats near the door had been a good one. She could barely keep up with the demand for mulled wine and spiced cider. The day was a chilly one, with a promise of snow later that night, and everyone was looking for warm drinks as they milled around outside. She’d commandeered the folding chalkboard they sometimes set out on the sidewalk with the day’s offerings, and once the parents came in for a hot beverage, the treats sold themselves. Holly was out of sprinkle-covered caramel apples within an hour, and the gingerbread men were the next to go. She ran out of everything else just before the dinner rush was about to start and moved the table back to the center of the restaurant.

“You staying to help?” Bonnie asked as she passed by, harried.

Holly bit her lip. They really did need help, but wasn’t the baking contest supposed to be judged soon? She wanted to find out what the judges thought. She wanted to get a chance to talk to them, and she wouldn’t be able to if she was waitressing. On the other hand, the day was getting colder despite the nice weather, and more people were coming in from the festival to have a hot meal. They’d be slammed. It’d be good tips, of course, and that was what drove everything. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she said. “I need to check on my entry for the baking contest.”

“Hurry if you can,” Bonnie said, heading back to the bar with another order.

Right. Well, she had planned on working tonight anyhow. It was just . . . well, she’d wanted a few minutes to bask in the glory of her gorgeous cake. She wanted everyone to see that the entry was hers, and to be impressed by her.

Was it so wrong to want to impress the town? To show them that the high school dropout could actually be good at something? She didn’t think so.

Holly pulled off her apron and hung it, switching it out for her coat. The moment she stepped outside, a chill breeze hit her in the face, but she didn’t care. There were a ton of people wandering all up and down Main Street, looking at the booths, dancing to Christmas songs in the square, and having fun. If she were off work today, she’d be one of them, but she had too much to do. Brimming with excitement, she crossed the street and headed toward the baking contest tables, where people were feasting on slices of cake and pie. She’d been told that the entries were going to be passed out among the townsfolk if allowed, and she’d agreed to let her cake be part of that. Would she come back to nothing at all?

For a baker, the thought was thrilling.

But when Holly got to the judging tables, her gorgeous cake was still there, mostly intact. It was at the far end of the table. One small slice had been taken out of each layer, and the rest was left alone. As she approached, she saw the cakes had been placed in order of their ranking. Well, that was a good thing, right? Her cake was at the end of the table, which meant first place, didn’t it?

When she got closer, though, she saw a blue ribbon next to an empty pie plate. Red was on a sad-looking red velvet cake next to it, and pink on a tray of brownies. First, second, and third place.