Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(28)
Holly shook her head, rolling the dough under one hand and then the other in practiced motions. “I’m off work tomorrow.”
It was her only day off and he was demanding that she bake for him? Man, he really was an ass. “If you’re off work, the cake can wait—”
“No, it’s okay!” She smiled up at him. “I like baking. I don’t mind at all. And since I’m off tomorrow, I won’t feel the need to rush around. I can relax and enjoy myself. What would you like for dinner?”
He flushed. “Are you asking me on a date?”
Holly blinked up at him and then chuckled again. “Uh, no, I was asking you what you wanted me to cook for you for your birthday.”
Now he felt twice as stupid. Here he was on the verge of giving her the I-don’t-date speech and she wasn’t even asking him out. “Right. Just . . . whatever.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “Two ‘whatevers’ from you and you’re being nice to me. Have you been drugged? Did body snatchers take the real Adam away?”
He adjusted his cap, tempted to drag the brim down over his entire face. His cheeks still felt hot with embarrassment. “I’m nice all the time.”
“Not to me, you’re not,” she sang out gaily. “You’re a dollar-toting asswipe to me.”
“Well, you’re not exactly my favorite person, either,” he began, and then stopped. He was ready to lash out, but he kept thinking about her crying last night . . . and her bright laughter today. “At any rate, I would love a birthday cake, and I’m going to get out of your hair before I say something stupid.” He nodded at her. “Thank you very much.”
Her laughter followed him out into the night, and for some reason, it made him smile. Sure, they hated each other most of the time, but he’d rather have her smiling and sharp instead of sad and lost.
And he’d use whatever means necessary to get it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After the chaos of the last few days, it was a pleasure for Holly to take her time and enjoy herself in Sage’s lovely kitchen. Some people might have hated the thought of baking on their day off, but she enjoyed it. She’d slept late that morning and tossed a load of laundry into the washing machine before heading into the kitchen and starting on her projects for the day.
She made some more dough for fresh bread and set it aside to prove, and then began to work on Adam’s cake. She still wasn’t sure why she hadn’t told him to get lost. Maybe she’d been having a vulnerable moment. More likely, she could sympathize with wanting to celebrate a birthday and having no one around but you. How many birthdays had passed her by with no one but Polly or Wade to give her a card or even remember that she was turning a year older?
She could relate. And so she was going to make him an extra-nice cake today . . . and she’d taste every bit of it before constructing the damn thing. Her cheeks still burned with humiliation at the thought of her contest disaster. It was just a onetime thing, she reminded herself. She could cook. She could absolutely bake. She’d just been running on fumes that day and rushing to make everything perfect and it had backfired.
It wouldn’t happen again, not that it mattered as far as the contest went. She’d flubbed that one royally. She’d never be able to approach a bakery within fifty miles for a business proposition.
But at least her goodies at the front table of Wade’s had gone over well. Her work hadn’t been completely for nothing, and she’d been complimented by a lot of people on the baked goods. It was something . . . just not the right something.
So she threw herself into making Adam’s cake, if only to prove to herself that she still had it when it came to cakes. That she could make this an absolute dream to eat. And when it was in the oven, she hopped up on the counter and checked her phone for messages. Polly tended to text randomly, sending over memes or complaining about a particular assignment. When she’d first gone off to university, the texts between them had flown fast and thick. Polly missed Holly, and Holly was desperately lonely. Texting back and forth had eased a lot of the pain of the separation.
As Polly had gone into her second year, though, the texts had grown less frequent. Polly had gotten involved in university life, joining clubs and hanging out with fellow students at the library. Holly was thrilled for her, she really was. She’d known that her sister would move on and have a life without her, but she hadn’t quite expected it to hurt so much. Each time she checked the text messages and there was nothing new from Polly, she ached a little more. Holly wanted to text her, but she warred with the need. She didn’t want to be an overbearing, overprotective sister. More than that, she didn’t want Polly to feel guilty at Holly’s loneliness and feel as if she had to return home. University was the best thing for Polly, and of that, Holly was absolutely certain.
Even if it did make her a little sad inside. It was that sadness that made her decide to text anyhow.
HOLLY: Good afternoon, sunshine! How’s the weather there? You taking it easy today?
POLLY: Hey sis! Day off?
HOLLY: Yeah, I’m baking a cake of course.
POLLY: Gah, again?
HOLLY: Glutton for punishment, that’s me. One of the cowboys has a birthday today and asked for a birthday cake. I couldn’t refuse! He’s here without his family and you know I’m a sucker for that sort of thing.