Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(72)

But knowing Holly hated him? Felt like he’d betrayed her? It was like a hole burning through his heart, an ache he couldn’t quite shake. It may have happened fast, but he knew he’d feel this way about her a year from now, or a dozen years from now.

Holly had felt right. Being with her had felt like the missing puzzle piece locking into place. It had been easy, and fun, and just . . . made him happy.

Like Mary made his brother, Mike, happy. He wanted that happiness. He wanted that partner in his life. And he wanted it to be Holly.

He tossed the card down on the bed and stormed out of his cabin, heading for the main house. Hannibal barked and bounded at his feet, excited. Adam knocked at the back door, but there was no answer. He tried calling her phone. Texted her.

She didn’t pick up. Holly was still avoiding him.

Adam stared at the door in frustration. He could break it open, he supposed. Force his way into the house and make his pitch . . . but he doubted she’d listen.

He’d just have to figure out a way to make her listen, then. He needed a plan.

Rubbing his goatee thoughtfully, Adam turned around and headed back to his cabin. He needed a plan to win his woman back. A plan to show her just how much he cared, how he thought she was smart and wonderful and perfect.

And he knew just who he needed to pull in.

Immediately, the idea unfurled in his mind, and he knew it was perfect. With a grin, Adam picked up his phone and started to text, then paused, glancing at the clock. It was late.

Okay, he’d text in the morning, then . . . but he didn’t have much time to waste. Christmas was just around the corner, and he intended on giving Holly the perfect gift.



* * *



? ? ?

Holly stared out the window, a mug of hot cocoa cradled in her hands, and tried not to feel sad and depressed. Big, fat snowflakes tumbled from the sky, and the ground was blanketed in fresh white powder. Inside it was nice and toasty warm, and she had the fireplace going. The kitchen was full of delicious smells, her dog was curled up on the couch, and It’s a Wonderful Life was playing on the television. It was a lovely Christmas Eve day.

Except for the fact that Holly was completely and utterly alone.

She’d expected this, really. She knew Polly wasn’t coming down from university. They’d talked again yesterday, the conversation brief. Polly had plans to go out with friends for Chinese food on Christmas Day and then would dive right back into her studying. She couldn’t talk long, though, and had ended the call quickly. All their calls seemed to be shorter and shorter lately, which made Holly feel sad. She knew Polly had a life of her own, but Holly was rudderless at the moment and wanted nothing more than to have someone to lean on.

She hated that she missed Adam. She still felt betrayed and alone. She’d given him her trust and he’d crapped all over it. But even so . . . she still missed him. Missed his big warm body in bed next to hers, missed seeing him through the day. Missed stolen kisses and laughter and small touches. Missed sharing bits about her day. She ached to hear his laughter and to see him scoop up her small dog and lavish attention on Pumpkin.

She just missed . . . him.

And she missed him far more than she missed Polly, which felt like a betrayal. Like there was something wrong with her for being completely bereft and miserable because she’d broken up with Adam—her fling—more than because Polly wasn’t coming down for Christmas. It didn’t help that he was just across the way, in his cabin, and she had to make food for him every day. It didn’t help that she could look out the window most days and see him on horseback, or walking around with Hannibal at his heels, or working on the farm equipment. She could ogle him from afar as much as she wanted, but she didn’t trust herself to have a conversation with him.

Holly was pretty sure it would be nothing but tears on her side, and she didn’t want to break down like a fool. She wanted to hold on to her anger. Her embarrassment. Her indignation.

Well, okay, she wasn’t really all that angry anymore. Talking with Becca and Layla yesterday had taken a lot of the sting out of the wound. Becca was convinced that Adam had regretted his actions, and Holly kind of wondered about that, too. It would explain his overnight turnabout, attitude wise. And from what she knew of Adam, he wasn’t vindictive. He had a weird sense of humor, sure, but he was never nasty about it. Hadn’t Carson been bugging him via text for weeks now about all the stuff he wanted Adam to do while he was gone? She thought about his patience with those, and how even when the texts bothered him, he still did as Carson asked because they were friends.

So that meant either she was wrong about Adam’s vindictiveness when it came to her cake, or she’d judged Adam wrong all along and he was a worse person than she—or anyone in town—thought. And she suspected that wasn’t the case . . . but it still made her sad. She’d trusted him and he’d humiliated her in front of everyone she knew.

Holly supposed that was the part that was hardest to forgive. How could you fall for someone—be with someone—who didn’t support you? She could forgive a lot, but not that.

She sipped her cocoa and stared out the window at the snow. Even though she’d known she’d be spending Christmas here at the ranch, alone, she wasn’t prepared for how isolated she felt. Holidays were for spending time with family. For sharing the joy of the season. For reconnecting.

And she had no one to reconnect with. Maybe that was why she was so low.