Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(4)
Knocking on the table to get her attention, as if she were a dog to be called. She jammed her fist into the dough, gritting her teeth. The only reason the tip had been decent was because Jason had paid with his credit card, and Jason was always generous. Even so, when she’d cleared the table, she’d found a single dollar bill left in the spot where Adam Calhoun had been sitting, folded lengthwise. It had made her want to explode with frustration. It was a slap in the face, that damn dollar, a reminder that he thought she was shit at her job.
She should have spit in his sandwich.
Holly flipped the dough again and gave it another rough knead. The gluten in the dough was working, and she was satisfied, so she plopped the dough into a bowl, covered it with Saran Wrap, and tossed it into the fridge to prove overnight. As she cleaned up the flour-covered countertop, she hoped the rest of the tips were decent. Everyone had seemed to be in a bad mood, hurrying through their day, and no amount of cheerfulness from her had been enough. Now she felt drained and tired . . . and she needed to put on her game face for a while yet.
She washed her hands and headed out into the main part of the bar. “Dough’s rising for tomorrow. All done with the tips? I need to hustle on home.”
Wade smiled at her, pushing an envelope in her direction. “Polly calling in?”
She nodded, tucking the envelope into her pocket without even looking. She’d count her tips later. “She’s coming home for the holidays. It’ll be nice to see her again.”
“Done your Christmas shopping?”
“God, no.” Holly laughed. “I figured I’d just bake everyone something. Hope you like fruitcake.”
“I hate fruitcake, but I’ll absolutely eat yours,” Wade told her, and patted his stomach. He was a big, solid man with a bald head and a thick mustache and an intimidating stare. He was also the kindest man she’d ever met, and the most giving. Now, if he’d only let her sell her desserts at the restaurant, they’d be on the same page. Wade ran a bar, though. People wanted sandwiches and burgers, chips and wings. They didn’t want petit fours or éclairs or light-as-air confections. If someone did order a dessert, they always wanted that crappy cheesecake that Wade got from a wholesaler.
As a compromise, he let her bake fresh bread for the restaurant, and their sandwiches were always a hit. She supposed it was something. Not much, but something.
“Fruitcake it is,” she teased, and they both knew full well that she’d probably make him a deluxe chocolate cake of some kind, the more decadent the better. Fruitcake was just a running joke. She grabbed her coat and flung it around her shoulders, and then waved at him. “See you tomorrow!”
Holly raced out the door, mindful of the time, and shivered as she hustled down Main Street. Most of the buildings here were restored old wooden frame houses from the turn of the century, and it gave Painted Barrel a decidedly Old West look. She was renting a refurbished apartment above the dry cleaner’s, because housing was scarce in a town like this, and she didn’t need much, not with her little sister, Polly, gone off to college. She climbed the stairs, unlocked the door, and was immediately met by a flying bundle of barking excitement.
“Pumpkin!” she cooed, putting her hands down and scooping up the tiny dog. “Is it time for walkies?”
The little thing yapped in her ear, then showered her face with doggy kisses.
“Come on, then,” Holly said. Even though she was tired, her poor little pup had been locked up in the house all day and needed relief. She grabbed the leash, headed back down the stairs, and walked Pumpkin up and down Main Street, even though it was after midnight. The time didn’t much matter, she supposed. Painted Barrel was safe no matter the hour.
And she had a fierce guard dog with her. Holly snickered to herself at the thought. Pumpkin was five pounds of fluff, and because the dog loved being pampered, that fluff was normally cut so that Pumpkin resembled the world’s cutest teddy bear of a dog. She was the happiest little thing, and Holly adored her. Sure, she was supposed to be her sister’s, but Polly’s clever, technical brain had never really connected with the needy little Pumpkin, and so Holly had taken her on. Now they were inseparable.
She thought about her sister as Pumpkin daintily picked her way through the crusted snow on the edge of the sidewalk, looking for the perfect spot to do her business. It had been months since she’d seen Polly, and the semester of college was wrapping up. That meant exams for Polly—a very stressful time for her—but it also meant that it was almost time for the semiannual shakedown, aka tuition fees.
Holly had been saving her tips, but it wasn’t nearly enough, and college seemed to get more expensive every time she turned around. She’d never complain to Polly, but even the student loans and grants her sister got were barely a drop in the bucket. She should have talked her into going to a cheaper college, or living in a cheaper dorm, but Polly had wanted the full experience, and damn it all, Holly was going to give it to her.
After all, they only had each other.
Once the dog was finished with her walk, Holly headed back up to her apartment and sent her sister a text letting her know that she was available. Immediately, the phone rang, and she picked up the video call.
“Hey there, stranger!” Polly’s voice was cheerful despite the late hour. “How was work?”
Holly’s heart eased a little at the sight of her sister’s happy expression. Polly looked tired, sure, but she also seemed to be thriving at college. She knew it provided her opportunities that small-town Wyoming simply couldn’t, and so she was thrilled for her sister, even if it meant putting her own wants and needs aside for a while. Wasn’t that always the case, though? Her sister had recently cut her long, straight dark hair into a thick fringe of bangs that framed her glasses neatly and made her look more sophisticated and intelligent than ever. She felt like a proud parent just looking at her. The proud parent of a hipster, sure, but a proud parent nevertheless. “Work was work. Some cowboy came in for lunch and was crappy to me and that seemed to set the mood for the rest of the day, but it’s over now.” She shrugged. “How’s classes?”