Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(6)

“Are you sure, Holly?” Polly’s voice was soft. “I know it’s the holidays . . .”

“It is,” Holly said brightly. She squeezed Pumpkin against her, ruffling the dog’s soft fur with her fingers. She’d be crying into that fur later tonight, but right now, she was holding together really well. “You can come home in the summer and I’ll absolutely smother you in big-sister love. Until then, we have our Friday night calls. And because it’s the holidays, what should I bake and send to you? What would your dorm like?”

Polly’s eyes lit up. “What are those little cheesy cracker things called? That are shaped like stars?”

“Uh, cheese crackers?”

Polly giggled, and Holly’s heart warmed. She loved her sister so much. Maybe being apart for Christmas would be a good thing. She’d get in some extra work, send her sister some money, and focus on getting that tuition payment in for January. And she’d bake her heart out.

She’d make it work. She always did.





CHAPTER THREE





Holly was determined to have a good day the next day, which was why it was so damned frustrating when Adam Calhoun was waiting at Wade’s the moment she walked up.

He sat on the bench outside the restaurant, his big, fearsome-looking dog at his side. Even if the dog looked intimidating, he still wagged his tail eagerly as she approached. Good boy, she thought, though she kept her expression remote. She deliberately ignored him, not saying hello as she let herself into the saloon. She wasn’t officially on the clock until she walked through the doors, and it wasn’t like he was going out of his way to be nice, either. She set her handbag down behind the counter and hung her coat in the kitchen, said hello to Wade, then headed out to the bar.

And if she was deliberately stalling a bit as she put on her half apron, well, no one had to know.

Adam walked in before she flipped the closed sign over. It was like he’d gotten tired of waiting. He just sauntered in as if he owned the place, glanced at her, then deliberately turned the sign on the door over. “It’s lunch hours now.”

She gritted her teeth. “I know. I was just about to head over to the door and turn the sign myself, but it looks like someone was too impatient.” She delivered the words with an ultra-sweet, saccharine smile while mentally shooting daggers in his direction. “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”

“Sir?” He arched an eyebrow at her, swaggering up to the bar like the cocky asshole he was. “Someone’s angling for a tip.”

Ugh, this guy. “Yes, I’m sure if I play my cards right, I’ll get a whole dollar from you.”

He just smirked at her from under the brim of his baseball cap. “It’s a dollar more than you deserve for this kinda service.”

“If you don’t like it, you’re free to go somewhere else.”

“Ain’t nowhere else.”

Holly gave him a cool smile. “That’s not my problem. Now, did you have an order? Or are you just here to take up counter space that a paying customer could use?”

Adam turned slowly, pretending to look around the completely empty bar. Well, sure it was empty. People would trickle in over the next half hour. Until then, this was the perfect time for her to work on baking the bread she’d left proving all night. Of course, she couldn’t do that if this jerk was in her face, making her hate his guts.

“Order?” she asked again, getting out her notepad and holding her temper.

To her surprise, he pulled out a piece of paper and rattled off a half dozen different sandwiches. Ah. He was getting lunch for everyone. It wasn’t so unusual. They had a lot of walk-ins that picked up brown-bag lunches and headed back out. They weren’t her favorite, of course. Tips were always better when someone sat down to eat, because then she could charm them with conversation. After six years of working at Wade’s, she had that part of her job down pat.

So she took the order and got to work, moving to the far end of the bar. The refrigerator case at the end held cold cuts and sandwich fixings, and she began to busily pull the order together. The sooner she got him out of here, the better.

“Uh, excuse me,” came the hated voice down the bar.

Holly looked up from the multiple sandwiches she had lined up and in mid-assembly. “Yes?” Was he going to pick at everything she did?

“You’re using the wrong bread.” He moved down to where she was working, pointing over the bar. “I want the same bread we had yesterday. On all of ’em. Don’t cheap out on me.”

Cheap out on him? Holly’s spine stiffened. “We’re out. We won’t have any until this afternoon.” The bread she was putting the sandwiches on was perfectly nice, normal bread, and she made a good sandwich. Nobody seemed to care what bread she used, most of the time. Of course this guy would. She didn’t know if she was flattered or irritated that he was making such a big deal.

Irritated, she decided when she looked at his stubborn, handsome face. Definitely irritated.

“I think you’re lying because you don’t like me.”

Holly gave him an exasperated look. “Dude, they’re sandwiches. Why would I lie about the bread?”

“Because you don’t like me,” he continued stubbornly.

Well, no, she didn’t like him. But she worked in a restaurant. She never sabotaged the food if she had a tiff with a customer, because that was just asking to get fired. “That has nothing to do with your order. You—”