Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(73)

Well, today, she was going to make it all about her, Holly decided. She was making her favorite cake—a crumbly cinnamon coffee cake—because this day was about her. She was whipping up a big pot of macaroni and cheese to share with Pumpkin, and she was going to sit in front of the fire, watch holiday movies, and maybe give herself a pedicure. It was a day of self-care, she decided, and headed upstairs to put on a charcoal face mask that she’d been saving for such an occasion.

Holly had her hair bound up in a towel and was dressed in her ugliest sweatpants and oldest T-shirt when the doorbell rang. She stared at her reflection in dismay, wiping her hands off. She’d just put the last of the charcoal mask on her face and she had visitors? Seriously?

Didn’t they know it was Christmas Eve?

Oh lord, what if it was carolers? What if it was someone feeling sorry for her and wanted to invite her to a get-together of some kind? She’d just die of embarrassment.

The doorbell rang again, and her dog barked with excitement. Holly groaned, scooping up Pumpkin before heading toward the door. “I guess we can’t pretend to not be home, right?”

She headed for the front door, peering out the window as she did. Her vision was blocked by the wreath that Sage had covering the glass, but she could just make out what looked like an ice cream truck—the big, boxy vehicle with the speakers on top that played music and had the window on the side.

What in the ever-loving heck was an ice cream truck doing here? She frowned, her face tightening as the charcoal mask did its thing, and tried to peer at who was at the door. All she could see were jeans and boots, which could have been anyone, really.

The doorbell rang again, impatient. And then again, and again. Pumpkin yapped right in her ear, giving away her location and making her half-deaf.

Holly moved to the door and stared through the peephole. It was a man on the porch, and his back was to her as he gazed out at the ice cream truck. The peephole glass distorted his form, but on his head was a familiar baseball cap . . .

And her heart lurched.

Oh god. It was Adam. She bit back a whimper, clutching her dog closer. What was he doing here? Why was he trying to talk to her today of all days? She closed her eyes for a moment, steeling herself, and then opened the door.

Adam turned around, his gaze moving over her hungrily. It made her blush, seeing how avidly he drank in the sight of her, despite the fact that she looked like a damn slob. “Hi,” he said, dragging his focus back up to her face. “Missed you.”

That was her greeting? That he missed her? Holly’s face flushed. “What are you doing here?” The words came out tight . . . because her face was freezing up, thanks to the mask. It was hard to move her lips to speak. “Why do you have an ice cream truck?”

He took a step forward, pulling Pumpkin from her arms and cradling the dog in his. The Pomeranian wriggled with excitement, licking at his chin. “I came to apologize.” He put a hand on the excited dog’s back, trying to calm her, a smile curling his mouth. “I know you’re not as happy to see me as this one is, but I thought you needed to hear the words anyhow.”

He . . . was here to apologize? It made her even more flustered. Did he miss her, then? Adam had said he wasn’t looking for a relationship, but maybe . . . she didn’t want to allow herself to hope.

“I fucked up,” Adam said bluntly. “I can’t describe it in any other way. I fucked up and I should have said something before you took that cake into town, but I didn’t realize how big of a deal it was to you. I didn’t realize it would embarrass you in front of everyone. I wasn’t thinking. I made a petty decision and once I realized it, I just made things worse by not saying anything. I didn’t realize the repercussions it would have on you. I should have thought it through. Hell, I shouldn’t have done it in the first place. All I can say is that I’m sorry and I get why you were so upset at me. I understand if you never want to speak to me again.”

Holly blinked. His expression was completely and utterly earnest, and she believed him. He couldn’t have known how stupid she would feel in front of the whole town because he hadn’t grown up here. He didn’t know. To him, she was just a waitress. She wasn’t the local good-for-nothing dropout.

She was just Holly to him. She’d never had anything to prove to him because he’d never asked for it. They’d gotten off on the wrong foot in the beginning, but it was because of their personalities, not who she was. The realization of that was . . . soothing. It went a long way toward making her feel better.

“You really hurt me with that,” Holly said eventually. She’d taken a moment to compose her thoughts, and the longer she took to respond, the more worried he seemed. It was that worry on his face, the way he kept watching her, that decided her. It was important to him that she not be upset . . . because she was important to him.

That realization was like a balm that soothed away the last of the hurt.

“I know.” He scratched at Pumpkin’s ears, a look of sheer frustration on his face. “I’d give anything to take it back, but I can’t. So that’s why I’m here with your Christmas present. I can’t fix what’s happened in the past, but I can try to make amends for it, if you’ll let me.”

“Amends?” She didn’t understand. “By . . . bringing an ice cream truck?” She smiled, though it probably looked weird given how tight her face felt. She touched the charcoal mask, but it was hard on her face, too late to wipe off. “I mean, I like ice cream, but maybe not that much?”