Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(80)
“Well, the same goes for you!”
He gave her a sultry look. “Beautiful, I always enjoy myself around you.”
And now he was making her blush. She squeezed his thigh again, a promise for later. Lord, how was it possible that they’d been together for a year now and he still made her get all red in the face like a schoolgirl? She kept waiting for things to change between them, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but being with him got better and better every day. Holly felt so lucky. Ever since that Christmas Eve when they’d gotten back together, Holly had stayed with Adam in his cabin. When Sage and her family returned, Holly had continued to stay at Adam’s place, and once her lease ran out on her apartment, she didn’t renew it. He insisted she move in with him.
Now they were both squeezed into his tiny cabin, and if it was packed with their stuff, neither one of them minded. They’d talked about renting a place in the future, but right now it was easier for her to run her business with one less rent payment.
And business was booming. She’d launched officially in February, just in time for Valentine’s Day. She’d needed a kitchen to bake her goods and had rented one in a tiny town over, where a restaurant had folded, and gotten the licenses to run her business through her food truck. Wade’s saloon had been quick to rebuild, but Holly had declined when he offered her her job back, even though that had been terrifying. She wanted to give her sweets business a chance to work, though, and she couldn’t do it while waitressing.
Business had been slow at first, as she’d tried to figure out what items enticed people to buy when they were on the fence, but she’d settled into a menu that sold briskly and had two offerings—Street Sweets and Weekend Meals. Her Street Sweets were anything from cookies to cupcakes to more delicate treats like macarons or slices of light, buttery cakes. Once a week, she took orders for take-and-bake entrees—from casseroles and pastas to brisket. On Sundays, she drove her deliveries out to families who didn’t want to cook through the week.
Business had been so brisk that she hired an assistant to help her bake—a girl fresh out of high school who was taking a gap year before heading to college. Tina drove the truck when Holly was busy baking, and she helped Holly deliver on the weekend. Everything had exceeded Holly’s expectations and she was looking at purchasing a second truck and expanding outward in the spring.
But that was in the spring. For now, she was concentrating on family time. Holly glanced over at Adam as he turned the car down another country lane. He’d been so incredibly supportive of her business, letting her borrow money to get her truck “wrapped” with her logo. She couldn’t count how many nights he’d driven out to the kitchen to bake with her when she was working late, just so she wouldn’t have to be that much later. He was thoughtful and caring and had bragged about her business to everyone he met. Heck, when the local paper had interviewed her and given her business a boost, Adam had emailed the other nearby newspapers and suggested they feature her as well—and her business had exploded afterward. He really was the best, and she loved him more every day.
“We’re here,” Adam said, and for a moment he looked incredibly nervous. He parked the car in front of a big, yellow farmhouse with a wraparound porch, and stared at it.
Aw. She gave his thigh a pat. “It’ll be all right, babe. It’s just your brother and his family. There’s no need to be anxious.”
“Right.” He adjusted his baseball cap repeatedly—a sure sign he was nervous—and then smiled at her. “Shall we go?”
She nodded, and they got out of the car. The air was cool and crisp, but not nearly as bitter cold as it was in the Wyoming mountains. The snow here wasn’t nearly as thick, either, but the yard boasted a few rough-looking snowmen that had seen better days. Holly glanced up at the house and the Christmas garlands that were woven through the railings on the wooden porch and the wreath hung on the door. It looked festive and cozy.
As she watched, the door opened and the family poured out—first the three kids, then the woman, who must be Mary, and then Mike, who looked like a broader, more dad-like version of Adam. She found herself smiling at them and waving as they headed toward the car, and her gaze strayed back to Adam.
He still looked nervous.
Holly beamed at the children, who raced up to them, and laughed when the little girl threw her arms around Holly’s waist. “Oh, what a greeting!”
“Merry Christmas!” the little one called. “Did you bring us cookies? Uncle Adam said you’d bring cookies!” Well, cookies were always a great icebreaker.
Holly giggled. “I did. Can you help me carry them?”
The children helped her clear the back seat of the baked goods, and then there was a flurry of hugs and greetings. Mary was warm and sweet and Mike reminded her of a teddy bear. Some of Adam’s nervousness seemed to ease as they headed inside, and Holly admired the charming little house with the big Christmas tree next to the fireplace, stockings hanging from the mantel. “Your home is lovely.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, and then paused. She looked over at her husband, smiling.
Puzzled, Holly followed her gaze and saw Mike was looking at Adam . . . and Adam was sweating again. He watched her, a funny look on his face, and she bit her lip, worried. She wanted to pull him aside and ask if everything was all right, but the kids were screaming about the gingerbread men and there was chaos everywhere. Mary gave them an apologetic look and tried to shush the children, but it was no use.