Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(23)

They ate a couple of burgers and drank a beer, but the place wasn’t slowing down much. If anything, more people were piling in and giving patrons that lingered at the bar dirty looks. They paid their tabs in cash and gave up their seats, and Adam hoped that was the end of it. Instead, Carson cut through the crowd, heading for Holly. Biting back a curse word, Adam followed him in.

“Miss Holly,” Carson called as she hauled a huge tray of dirty dishes away from a table.

She turned, that bright smile automatically on her face again even as she tried to place who was calling her. Carson was right. Something seemed off with her tonight. She seemed . . . fragile. Brittle. Even when they were at each other’s throats, there was a spirit to her. It was completely gone tonight.

It was just a dumb cake, he told himself. And she’d been rotten to him all week, deliberately so. If she couldn’t take the heat, stay out of the kitchen and all that.

She spoke to Carson a moment, her head bent, and then nodded at him. Carson headed back in Adam’s direction, and Holly disappeared into the kitchen with the dirty dishes.

“Ready to head back?” Adam asked.

Carson shrugged. “Holly gets off at ten.”

He was surprised to hear that. It was barely past eight. “You’re going to wait around to give her a ride?”

Carson stared at him. “You’re not?”

It sounded like a challenge. He’d been the one to drive her into town, sure, but she’d made it quite clear that she didn’t want a ride. He was about to point that out, too. Instead, what came out was, “Why are you so chatty when it comes to her? Took you a month to say hello to me.”

The older man shrugged again. “You’re kind of an ass.”

Adam laughed at that.

Carson smiled. Just a little. “Reminds me of my daughter.” They headed out the door, into the crisp night, just as another group of people headed into the saloon. When the door was shut, Carson continued. “After my wife died, Raina was so busy trying to handle everything and take care of me that she never took a moment for herself.” He glanced back into the windows of the saloon. “I see it in her, I guess.”

In the space of thirty seconds, his knowledge of Carson had just doubled. He knew the man was no longer married, but he didn’t know that his wife had died . . . or that his daughter even had a name. Carson kept to himself most times, but he’d grown strangely attached to Holly. Adam looked into the saloon, but he didn’t see what Carson did. All he saw was bright red lips, a cheerful ponytail, and tired, tired eyes.

Huh. Maybe Carson was right. But who was she looking after? He was pretty sure she didn’t have kids.

Not that he liked her. Not that he cared about what was going on in a damn irritating waitress’s life. He didn’t. He just wanted three meals a day like any normal man, and to be left alone. Maybe a polite “hello” now and then from Holly. Was that too much to ask? “I think you’re seeing things, if you ask me,” Adam said. “When I look at her, I see someone with a mean streak and an ornery disposition.”

Carson grinned. “She ain’t mean to me.”

“Says the man that didn’t have to eat peanut butter and jelly for a week.”

“It’s called being polite.” The older man smirked. “You should try it sometime.”

“She needs to start it.”

Carson just shook his head at Adam. “Don’t know what woman wounded you in the past, but that doesn’t mean that Holly’s like her. Give her a chance.”

Adam scowled. He wasn’t a woman hater. He liked women just fine. It was that obnoxious waitress he had a hard time with. Everyone else he got along great with. His boss? Lovely lady. The gal that cut his hair? Sweet as pie.

Holly? Colder than a witch’s tit.

“Just because you’re older than me doesn’t mean you have all the answers,” he told Carson, his good mood evaporating. “You’re welcome to stick around, but I’m not. I’m going back.”

The other cowboy nodded. “Check on that sick cow in the barn for me.”

“All right.”

“And make sure the horses are blanketed. Supposed to be a cold one tonight.”

“Okay.”

“And do a last check on the herd. I didn’t have a chance before coming into town.” He thought for a moment. “Probably should cake ’em again, too. Just in case it’s colder than we thought.”

They took turns giving the cows extra feed—or “cake” nutritional pellets—in the winter, because it meant they’d stay warmer. Still, they loved cake pellets and they got pushy about that kind of thing, following close behind the Gator as it spooled the feed out. It wasn’t the best to do at night, either, and not Adam’s favorite. This turn was supposed to be Carson’s, too. “Anything else?”

Carson rubbed his chin. “Actually . . .”

Adam sighed and put his hands on his hips. “You telling me to stay here so you can go back and work?”

Carson put his cowboy hat on. “Now that you mention it, excellent idea.” He gave a quick nod. “Much obliged.”

Great.

Adam headed back in and squeezed into a spot at the bar once more. He got a soda, sat down, and waited. There was no one he recognized in the saloon tonight—it was all families or dating couples. He guessed that most single people avoided the carnival. Still, it was packed. Sage would be happy. He knew from Jason that she put a lot of work into making the town’s events fun and profitable.