Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(62)

Adam had listened to everything and hugged her again. “I have an idea,” he said. “What if I put out a message to the other ranchers in the area that Wade’s doing this to you? Painted Barrel’s a ranch town and everyone loves you. No one would want to see you get screwed over. I bet we could pull away all his business. You could make sandwiches on the side and he’d regret not bringing you back.”

She squeezed his hand, utterly touched that he’d go to so much work just to make her happy. “I don’t want Wade to fail. He and Bonnie need money just as much as I do. It’s just a bad situation all around.”

“Yeah, but you’re my girl. I want to fix it for you.”

And that made her turn around in bed and kiss him silly. Because for the first time in her life, someone had Holly’s back. It was the best feeling in the world.



* * *



? ? ?

Something was wrong with Holly.

In the days since the restaurant had burned down, Holly had changed. The first day or two, she’d been a whirling dervish of cooking, and every time he entered the main house, Adam was assaulted by a variety of smells. She’d made bread, rolls, muffins, bagels, cakes, cookies, and every kind of pie he could think of. Every inch of counter space had been covered with baked goods.

Then, it had abruptly stopped.

Adam had come home one night—funny how returning to Holly every day had turned into coming home—and found batches of cookies in the garbage and Holly in bed, curled around her dog. He’d hugged her while she told him all about her terrible day, and he’d vowed to get revenge on the townsfolk that were making her sad.

She’d smiled and kissed him silly, and Adam had hoped he’d fixed things, but the light in her was fading, day by day, and he couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

On the surface, everything between them seemed fine. Holly never cried. She never railed against her unemployed situation or complained. Every time he came in from the barn, she’d made sure that he had a hot meal waiting. They ended up in bed together every night.

And yet . . . something was wrong. Something was off. She wasn’t her normal self, and he noticed it, because he noticed everything about her.

As the Christmas holiday crept closer, Adam noticed that Holly seemed more and more withdrawn, even though she did her best to hide it. The meals turned into more of the same every day. Breakfast was eggs and toast. Lunch was a soup and a sandwich. Dinner was a casserole of some kind. And really, it was fine. He’d have eaten more peanut butter and jelly every day if it was because she was busy or occupied. But he knew Holly well enough now to know that her lack of baking was an indication of a deeper problem.

And he had no idea how to fix it.

Every time he tried to get her to open up, she distracted him. It was usually with kisses or flirty looks, and he had to admit that he was rather vulnerable to those. It took him a few days to realize that she was doing it on purpose, too. That she tended to be really interested in sex the moment he brought up employment, or baking. Once he realized what she was doing, he let it slide for a few more days because he was hoping she’d break out of the funk.

After all, Adam knew what it was like to feel as if the careful plans you had for yourself were completely upended. Sometimes you needed to regroup and figure out what you wanted to do with yourself. All he knew was that he wanted to be there for her when she figured it out.



* * *



? ? ?

    Four days before Christmas, one of the fences broke again and Adam had three cattle missing. He called Caleb over at the Swinging C, and the man helped him rustle up his runners while Adam repaired the fence. With Caleb’s help, he also moved the cattle to another pasture, caked them, and settled them in for the weather that was supposed to come in that night. By the time Adam was done for the day, thick, fat snowflakes were falling from the night sky, and the temperature had dropped. Even Hannibal wasn’t enjoying himself, picking through the snow with flicks of his paws.

Adam was exhausted, and all he wanted was to hold Holly close, breathe in the scent of her hair, and tuck her body against his. He wanted to hear her soft voice, wanted to listen to her tease him. He wanted her to put her cold feet on his legs and giggle with delight at the outraged sounds he made.

Even though the days were long lately—damn long—somehow knowing that Holly was waiting for him made everything better. Always did.

When he got inside the main house—he’d been spending more time there than in his own damn place lately—Holly was curled up on one of the couches, a magazine in her hands, her dog tucked against her feet. She lit up at the sight of him, a genuine smile on her face. “Hey, stranger. How was your day?”

“Long.” He moved to her as she got to her feet and he kissed her in greeting. Funny how they’d fallen into a “married couple” sort of routine and . . . he kinda loved it. If you had asked him a year ago about sitting near the fire while talking about his day, he’d have thought you were insane. Now it was his favorite part of the day, that time unwinding with Holly.

Well, that and the sex.

She wound her arms around his neck and lifted her face in a request for a kiss, and he was all too happy to oblige. Adam’s mouth covered hers, hot and hungry. She tasted good, like hot cocoa and sweet sugar, and he made a noise of appreciation, dragging her closer against him. “Dinner’s delicious.”