Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(36)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN





Holly was just about to head to work when her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She was excited, thinking Polly had reached out, but it was only Becca, who ran the hair salon in town.

BECCA: Hey Hol! Got a moment?

HOLLY: Sure, heading in to work soon. Do I need to set up a hair appointment?

BECCA: Oh, I mean, you could, but that wasn’t what I was texting about! Did Adam talk to you about my cookie request?

HOLLY: No . . . what’s up?

BECCA: He must have forgot. You know how men are. I’m throwing a party this weekend and I’m trying to pull together refreshments.

BECCA: I thought a couple of trays of cookies would be great and wanted to know what you’d charge.

BECCA: Also before you think you’re not invited . . . you are! I just delivered invites out and yours is waiting at the bar. I know I’m late but I hope you can come.

BECCA: And if it’s too last minute for the cookies, that’s all right, too. I feel bad! I’m not trying to pile onto you at the last moment.

Holly frowned down at her phone. This was exactly the kind of lead she was hoping for—people wanting her to bake for them for money—and she was thrilled about the offer. Yet . . . why hadn’t Adam said anything? She’d shown him she loved to cook, and hadn’t they been getting along recently? Was this just him being a dick again after everything? Or had he truly forgotten?

She thought for a moment and decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. He’d been sick recently, and between that and his birthday, he’d probably just forgotten. It was a little irritating, but not anything to get upset over.

HOLLY: I would love to make you cookies!

HOLLY: And attend your party! You tell me what you had in mind and I’ll be there.

They worked out the details of the order, and Holly quoted a price that would cover the cost of the ingredients, plus a little extra for her work. She felt she didn’t have the clout—especially after her public cake disaster—to be able to charge more.

BECCA: Girl, that is far too little $$$. But thank you! I’m excited to see what you bring.

HOLLY: I’ll see you Friday night, then. Is it just casual wear? Do I need to bring a gift?

BECCA: There’ll be a crazy gift exchange, yes, and a few festive games. Just wrap up something random and fun. Dress code is party attire, but not black tie? AKA wear your nicest gown but your boyfriend doesn’t have to wear a tux.

HOLLY: No boyfriend on this end.

BECCA: Can you bring a friend? Just to keep the numbers even? If not, that’s ok, but I’ve got a few holiday games planned that require couples.

HOLLY: I’ll see what I can do.

In truth, she had no idea who to bring. Her last boyfriend had been over a year ago and he’d moved away from Painted Barrel. It was a small town and while she knew a lot of people, she’d also fallen off the radar after high school because she’d been so wrapped up in taking care of Polly’s needs. She supposed if someone showed up at the saloon tonight she could ask them for a date, but that might lead to weirdness.

Then again, there was always Adam. He owed her a favor after all the nursing she’d done in the last few days. Sure, they were enemies, but she knew for sure he wouldn’t have a date, and if nothing else, they could just take one car. That’d make things simple.

She’d been putting up with him for well over a week now. She could put up with him for a night.



* * *



? ? ?

Business was slow at Wade’s saloon, and Holly’s tips were sad and pathetic. She’d scanned her customers, looking for potential “dates,” but other than a truck driver stopping through, most of the people at the saloon that night were far too old and far too married.

She was going to be stuck with Adam, she realized.

As if her thoughts had called him, Adam showed up that night in the kitchen. Holly was up late after the day’s work, prepping food for the next day’s meal. Carson had left her a sweet note, thanking her for the cookies she’d baked late last night so he could bring them to his daughter. She hoped everything turned out okay and made a mental note to text him in a few days and check on things. He’d assured her he wasn’t worried, but Carson was hard to read sometimes. There were no messages from Polly, either, which didn’t surprise her but still made her feel a little sad.

Maybe all that was why she was happy to see Adam show up. “Hey there,” she called out as he walked in. “How are you feeling?”

“Like freshly warmed shit,” Adam said, moving to the kitchen island and pulling out a stool to settle in.

“Is that an improvement from yesterday?” she asked, tossing strips of chicken in breadcrumbs. With Carson leaving, it was ruining some of her plans for batch baking big casseroles so they could eat as much as they wanted. She couldn’t exactly make huge plates of food for one guy, so she’d try out a few different things to see what he wanted. Tomorrow’s menu would be homemade crunchy chicken strips with mashed potatoes and white gravy.

“Slight.” Adam gave her a faint smile. He looked tired, his face a little pale, and she knew he was pushing himself hard to get back into the swing of things. He hated being sick. It was something he’d repeated over and over (and over) again when he was half-asleep with his fever. “Carson left tonight.”