Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(71)

It was all normal stuff. It was all things that could be handled on a regular day with the three of them working together. Except Jason wasn’t around, and Carson was visiting his daughter, and it was practically the holidays and so Adam didn’t feel right about calling up the Watsons over at the Swinging C and asking for more help. So he did what he could and handled all the immediate problems and tried not to worry about everything else. He made sure the animals were healthy and fed and all accounted for. Everything else could wait for a while.

Hannibal jumped up on the bed next to him and began licking Adam’s face, whining with excitement.

He sputtered, pushing away Hannibal’s muzzle with a chuckle. “What’s gotten into you?”

The dog whined again, then bounced off the bed and raced toward the door. He waited by it, tail wagging, and Adam’s heart sunk. Did he think they were going to the main house to visit Holly? Adam got up from bed and glanced out the window. The lights were on in Holly’s room, but he didn’t think she’d want to see him. A quick check on the porch showed him that she’d left his meal there, just like normal. Yeah, he was still in the doghouse.

He sighed heavily, picked up the tray, and set it on the small table in his room. “Come away from the door, boy.”

He unpacked the food, noting half-heartedly that it was chicken strips and homestyle fries, along with reheating instructions. He was too tired for that, so he just grabbed one and started chewing, and offered one to Hannibal. He wasn’t all that hungry. Not really. Food kinda depressed him lately, because he knew the only reason that Holly was feeding him at all was because she desperately needed the money the job brought. As if she worried he’d somehow complain to Sage and stop her from getting a paycheck. That stung, of course. He’d never do such a thing.

Adam ended up giving half his food to Hannibal, who scarfed it down. There were two cookies inside the dinner kit, one for him, and one shaped like a bone with Hannibal’s name written on the Saran Wrap. He stared at his cookie for a while. He wasn’t sure if the sight of it made him feel better or worse. She was baking, at least. That made him happy. He didn’t like it when she was sad and miserable.

But did it mean that she’d moved on past him? That she was utterly done with him?

There was a red envelope below the container of food that Adam hadn’t noticed at first. His heart thudded at the sight of it. Was Holly . . . sending him a card? But when he saw the postage marks in the corner, his hopes sunk. It was from Iowa.

His brother.

With more than a bit of annoyance, Adam opened the card. He wasn’t exactly on good terms with Mike. Ever since Adam and Donna had divorced, Mike had been difficult. He’d been full of advice, all of it nothing Adam had wanted to hear. He’d offered for Adam to “come home” to the farm repeatedly, but it was the last thing Adam had wanted. Mike had married his high school sweetheart and they’d had kids right away. Mike had taken over the farm when his dad had gotten sick, and it was a smooth transition when Dad had passed on. Mike had always known what he wanted. He’d never suffered from a crisis of faith.

He was also quick to tell Adam what to do, and Adam had always resented it. He was sure his brother’s Christmas card was full of all kinds of shit advice he didn’t want or need, but he pulled it out of the envelope anyhow.

Instead of some insipid reindeer picture or a Santa illustration, it was a family photo. The entire family was huddled into the picture in front of the fireplace. He recognized that fireplace—it was the one in the living room of the old farmhouse. Mary—his sister-in-law—was seated on the floor with their youngest in her lap. The little girl was in twin pigtails and the two boys stood next to their mother, gaps in their wide smiles. With a hand on each shoulder of the boys, Mike stood over them, but his gaze was on his wife, seated in front of him.

His brother had such a look of utter pride and happiness on his face as he gazed down at his wife that it wrenched something inside Adam. His brother was getting older, his hair sprinkled with gray and his waist a little thicker. Mary looked more like a mom than the fresh, apple-cheeked blonde he remembered.

But they were all so damn happy.

Adam stared at the picture for a long moment and then opened the card. It had been signed by everyone, from Mary to little Shelby. Underneath, his brother’s cramped, tight writing crept across the bottom of the card.

    I know you don’t like to need anyone. I get it. But if you ever need a family, you know where we are. —Mike



It was . . . not preachy. Not demanding, like Mike’s normal notes were. It was nice.

Adam flipped the card closed and stared at the picture again. Instead of his brother and his wife, he imagined Holly as the one seated by the fire, a kid in her lap, and Adam as the one gazing adoringly at her.

He wanted that so damn bad he could taste it.

It wasn’t like this with Donna, he realized. They’d gotten together before he’d shipped off and it had never been excessively romantic, at least on his side. Maybe that was why she hadn’t felt the need to be faithful. He’d left the Navy to be with her, but looking back, that was more about him than her. He’d been tired of his life in the military and had wanted a change. He was gutted when he found out she was cheating, but it hadn’t hurt his heart. He’d felt betrayed, but he hadn’t pined over her. He didn’t ache to see her again.