Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(74)

His eyes flashed with excitement. Adam reached for her hand and pulled her forward, onto the porch. “It’s for you. And it’s not an ice cream truck. It’s a cake truck. Or a pie truck. Or whatever you feel like baking that day truck.”

Holly looked over at him in surprise. “W-what?”

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the last few days.” The tops of his cheeks were pink, as if he were flushing. “It sounds goofy to admit it, but I just . . . I wanted to fix this. Even if you never speak to me again, I wanted you to know that I believe in you and that you’re as smart and clever and brilliant as anyone I’ve ever met. I wanted you to realize that. And I thought about how you’ve approached all these bakeries and no one wants to work with you. You keep going to them and so I figured . . . well, what if you didn’t have to? What if the customers could come directly to you?” He rubbed his goatee and then set Pumpkin down on the steps. The dog immediately raced toward the ice cream truck, no doubt smelling cookies or whatever it was that the truck had on it.

He watched Pumpkin race away with a smile on his face, and that smile warmed Holly’s heart. It distracted her, that gorgeous smile of his. It made her think of nights in bed together, his hand tracing patterns on her bare back. He took her hand, leading her to the edge of the porch. Flustered by his touch, she looked around for his dog. “Where’s Hannibal?” she asked, surprised to see his shadow wasn’t nearby.

“In the truck with the driver.” He glanced over at her, that wicked smile curving his mouth again. “Are you changing the subject?”

Changing the subject? When he was standing so close to her and she’d forgotten how good he looked? How good he smelled? How his big, strong hand felt as it touched hers? When he was smiling at her in that way that made her feel so damn special and seen, and here she was in a mud mask and old sweats and he still made her feel beautiful with just the way he gazed at her?

“I can’t remember what we were talking about,” Holly confessed, her gaze sliding to his mouth.

“The truck is for you,” he emphasized again, giving her fingers a light squeeze. “Because I want you to be a success. If you can’t get the bakeries to notice your food, you start a food truck of your own. You park it on Main Street and sell cakes and pies or whatever you feel like. You can do food deliveries if you want. You can do whatever you want, and I’ll help out in whatever way I can.”

Holly stared at him, her eyes wide.

A food truck.

No, a desserts truck. The moment it hit her, she realized what a genius idea it was. She could set up in one town in the morning, then drive over to another town in the afternoon. She could have a menu of things she’d baked, or she could take orders and deliver them. She could go to the customers, instead of looking for ways to get others to take a chance on her. She could run her perfect little sweets shop out of a truck and drive as far as she needed to get to the customers.

It was so damn smart. Painted Barrel wasn’t big enough to handle more than one baking shop, and neither were any of the towns nearby. But if she could hit all of them . . . she just might be able to do it.

Her lips parted.

“Here,” Adam continued, releasing her hand. He fished in his pockets. “Before you say you can’t do it, I wanted to give you this list. I talked to Becca for . . . things.” He paused. “And she wanted me to ask you about doing some more baking for her. One of the customers in her salon asked the same thing. The lady at the inn asked, too. The guy that gave me the lead on the truck wants a birthday cake for his kid. Wade wants your bread. Everyone I talked to thinks you’re amazing, Holly. They want you to bake for them.” He took her hand in his and pushed the list into it. “The only one that thinks you can’t do it is you.”

“An ice cream truck,” she stated dumbly, still staring at it. “Those can’t be cheap.”

“It wasn’t,” he admitted. “But I wanted you to have it.”

Oh no. She had no money to spare. Holly looked over at him, eyes wide. “How do I repay you?”

A funny expression crossed his face. “You don’t. It’s a Christmas present.”

“Adam, it’s too much—”

“It’s not,” he said softly, and took her hand again. He gave it a warm, gentle squeeze. “It’s a gift. I wanted to get this for you. I wanted to show you that I believe in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself.” He squeezed her hand again. “Because I think you’re the most beautiful, funny, smart, and amazing woman I’ve ever met . . . and I want you to realize that, too.”

A lump formed in Holly’s throat. “Oh, Adam.”

“The biggest mistake I made was causing you to doubt yourself.” He held her hand higher, rubbed his fingers over her knuckles, and then kissed them softly. “And that kinda kills me. If you don’t want to be with me, I get it. But I need you to realize that you’re talented, no matter how you and me turn out, all right?”

Hot tears slid down her face. “You’re going to make my mud mask melt,” she said, sniffling.

“You mean this isn’t natural beauty I see before me?” Adam teased.

She laugh-sobbed. “I’m having a spa day to pamper myself.” Holly swiped at her nose with her free hand. “I figured since . . . since I was alone today . . .” She shrugged.