Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(26)

“Oh good!” Becca lit up. She put a hand to the back of his head and began to shave his neck. “Holly could use the money.”

“That so? Supporting a boyfriend or something?”

The hairdresser shook her head. “Her younger sister. She pays for her to go to college. Poor thing always goes without because she’s sending every penny to Polly.” She chuckled. “I still can’t believe their parents named them Polly and Holly.”

“You should give them a tongue lashing,” he teased. “That sort of thing is criminal.” Criminal, kinda like parents that didn’t send their own kid to college and forced her sister to pay for everything. He was sure there was a story there.

She turned the shaver off and asked, “You didn’t hear? I guess Holly doesn’t talk about it much.”

“Hear what?”

“Holly’s parents died in a car accident when she was seventeen or eighteen. I don’t remember exactly, just that it was a big deal because Holly and Polly had no one to turn to. Holly was old enough to be considered an adult, but they were going to send Polly into foster care. So Holly dropped out of high school, got a job waiting tables to support her sister.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. It was also damn impressive. “So she’s sending money off to college?”

Becca nodded. “Holly compromises so Polly can have a normal life. Polly’s really smart, you know. Valedictorian of her class. I think she wants to major in biochemistry or something along those lines. It’s definitely not cheap for Holly, but she never complains.”

He thought about how upset she’d been last night.

They just looked at me like I was stupid.

They’ll just be like, oh, there’s that dumb girl from Painted Barrel that put salt in her cake.

Well, if Adam had felt guilty last night, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He grimaced. “I don’t think she did well in the baking contest yesterday.”

Becca’s expression grew sympathetic. “Did she not? Poor thing. She’s such a good baker. Her food’s way better than anything you can get at the doughnut shop.” She paused, thinking. “Maybe I’ll ask her if she can make some cookies for us for the holidays if I offer to pay. She usually brings everyone in town cookies. It’s so sweet.”

“I’ll mention it to her,” Adam said casually. “If you like.”

“That’d be lovely. Ask her what she charges.” She shook her head, smiling. “Hank’s brothers are always eating me out of house and home and it’d be a good idea to have some treats lying around, especially treats I don’t have to make. Plus, I’m sure she could use the money.”

He thought about how she’d stiffened up when the person on the phone—her sister—had mentioned money. “I’m not sure she’d want charity.”

Becca chuckled. “You don’t get it. Nothing makes Holly happier than baking. Nothing at all.”



* * *



? ? ?

Adam was pretty sure he needed to apologize, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it. How did you confess that you’d sabotaged someone so badly? But that you’d really only meant to humiliate the one person and not in front of the entire town? No matter how he thought about it, it sounded bad.

So maybe instead of an apology, he needed to make it up to her. Make her feel good about herself somehow.

It took him all day to come up with a plan, but when he finally had it, he congratulated himself on the idea. It was simple, but it’d be effective. Cheered, he watched the main house for the lights to come on. They finally did at midnight, which meant she must have been working again.

She always seemed to be working. Damn. As a ranch hand, he was used to long hours in the cold and how random tasks cropped up out of nowhere, but he’d never seemed to pay attention to the fact that every time he went into Wade’s, Holly was there. Did she never take a day off for herself?

Maybe his plan wasn’t such a good idea after all. But then he thought about what Becca had said, how Holly loved to bake. He decided to go with it anyhow . . . mostly because he was a rancher and a soldier, not an ideas man. Nervous, he adjusted his cap and headed for the kitchen in the main house.

She was inside, all right, humming a Christmas song to herself as she slapped dough against the counter. Her purse was nearby, her hair still in the bow and ponytail she wore for work, and he saw she’d kicked off her shoes and was standing barefoot in the kitchen. She slammed the dough down, lost in her own little world.

He coughed, and she jumped.

Her little dog ran in, barking at him.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me,” Holly declared, bracing her hands on the counter.

Adam scooped up her little dog and petted its head, tucking the small, wriggly thing under his arm. “Sorry.”

She wiped at her brow with the back of her hand, careful not to get flour on herself. “It’s all right. I just didn’t expect to see anyone this time of night. What can I do for you? Do you have a request for dinner this week?”

He moved across from her and leaned against the counter. Close, but not too close for her to get antsy, since they always seemed to be antsy around one another. He scratched the little dog’s ears and studied her face. “You look tired.”