Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(25)

Adam knew just how that felt, and it sucked.

That feeling was why he paused at his door, then turned around and headed back toward the main house. The lights were still on, and he imagined she’d be in the kitchen, no doubt whipping up food for them for tomorrow. She’d promised enchiladas, and he suspected that despite all the things he disliked about her, she wasn’t one to give up on her word. It added to his guilt, knowing that she would be up late making food for them, just as she’d been up late last night, working on her cake.

He needed to talk to her. He wasn’t sure why. To apologize? He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that, but he just knew he needed to say something. He’d figure it out when he got inside.

He opened the back door of the house quietly. It was just in case she was asleep, he told himself, though he suspected he already knew the answer to that. The moment he stepped inside, though, he heard sounds.

Sobbing.

Adam’s chest felt heavy. He headed toward the kitchen, where the sound of the crying was coming from, and couldn’t bring himself to step through and announce his presence. He leaned against the wall, listening in like an asshole.

Holly was crying. Big, great, ugly sobs that ripped from her throat. He thought about how stiff she’d been in the car, but he thought that was just because of his presence. He thought about what Carson had said. About how he could tell she was hurting. Did he suspect what Adam had done? Was that why he’d wanted Adam to drive her home? To give him a chance to apologize?

“I’m s-s-so embarrassed,” Holly choked between sobs. “You should have seen the way they were all looking at me.”

He froze, wondering if she was talking to him.

A moment later, he heard the tinny sound of a response. A phone call. Right. She’d said she was going to speak to someone. He glanced inside and she was seated on the counter, her face red and blotchy, a phone held up in front of her. A video call, then.

“I normally taste everything,” she wailed back to the phone. “I d-don’t know why I didn’t this time. I guess I was rushing.” She sobbed again. “They just looked at me like I was stupid, Pol. That’s the worst part.” She swiped at her face angrily. “Like they all knew I was that stupid dropout that would amount to nothing. It was awful.”

More buzz from the phone. He couldn’t make out what the other voice was saying, just Holly’s responses.

“You want to know the worst part of it?” Holly said in a small voice, wiping her face with her sleeve like a child. “I was so damn confident.” A choked sound escaped her. “I was going to go up to the owners of the other shops—the judges—and tell them I could bake for them. I could make stuff for their stores and we could both make some money on the side, you know? But I fucked it up, Pol. I fucked it up so bad and now if they even look at me, they’ll just be like, oh, there’s that dumb girl from Painted Barrel that put salt in her cake.”

A pause.

Holly’s demeanor immediately changed. She shook her head, her expression growing tight. “No, money’s fine. I promise. It was just me trying to get a foot in the door, you know? Do you need some cash? For books? Or anything else?” A pause. “Right. Okay. I’ll send you some first thing Monday.” Another pause. “No, it’s not a problem. I promise. Enough about me—I’m just disappointed over a stupid cake.” She put on a bright smile, and it was like she’d put on a mask. “Tell me about your week. How are exams coming along?”

Adam stepped away as the conversation changed to what sounded like college stuff. She was sending money to someone, then? He thought about how tight her expression had been when she talked to him, how she’d mentioned that she needed this job.

Money issues? Was that why she was so devastated over the cake? She’d thought of it as a way to earn more funds?

Who was she supporting in college? A boyfriend? A child? A family member?

He didn’t know, but he knew who would.





CHAPTER ELEVEN





You sure you need a cut?” Becca asked him as he sat in the chair at her salon. “Still looks pretty short to me.” She touched his hair with short, quick flicks, as if testing the length with her hands as well as her eyes.

“Sage and Jason are out of town,” he explained. “Just gonna be me and Carson at the ranch over the holidays, and Carson’s heading out. I won’t have time to sleep, much less get my hair cut, while he’s gone.” He gave her an easy smile. “Thought I’d get it done before everything hits the fan.”

She smiled at him. “Tricky, tricky. All right. Same as usual?”

“Same,” he agreed, and she got to work. “You and your husband doing anything for Christmas?” he asked, making small talk. Wouldn’t look smart if he just launched right in to quizzing her about Holly.

Becca rattled on about her husband and their daughter, and some pink playhouse thing they’d gotten her for Christmas, but he wasn’t much listening. He was too busy waiting for the right moment to pose a question about Holly. “What about you?” Becca asked, flicking on the razor. “Are you going to do something special for Christmas?”

“Working,” he told her. “Sage hired the waitress that works over at the saloon to cook for us through Christmas.”