Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(8)
She just sighed and pulled a lock of her long hair out of the baby’s mouth. “Jamie’s shy. And I know you well and know you’re a gentleman. You’d make a lady feel special, which is why I thought I’d ask.” She thought for a moment. “How old is Carson?”
“You want me to ask?”
“No, no, it’s all right. I was just thinking . . .” She pursed her lips. “It’s nothing.”
He supposed he should go warn Carson before Sage decided he needed to be managed, too. “I think I’ll go eat my sandwich now.”
“Oh, of course.” Sage chuckled, clearly embarrassed. “Go and eat. I’m sorry to keep you. I’m just trying to get everything in order before we go. You know how it is. How . . . how are you and Carson going to manage with food, by the way? Should I buy groceries for the house?” She gave him a curious look. “Do you cook?”
“No, ma’am. I got used to having someone else handle my meals for me when I was in the Navy,” Adam joked. “I’m afraid it’s spoiled me. Don’t think Carson cooks, either. I’m sure we’ll figure something out. If nothing else, we can always do peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the next while.”
“Oh, that hardly seems fair.” She bit her lip. “I’ll talk to Jason and see what he suggests. There’s just not enough time in the day . . .” She checked her watch and sighed. “Which reminds me, I need to head into town.”
Sage walked away, pulling out her phone with her free hand and typing as she headed back toward the laundry and her other child, multitasking. Adam took that momentary reprieve and raced out of the house with his sandwich and Carson’s. He planned on avoiding Sage up until she left. Not that she wasn’t a nice person and great to work for, but the matchmaking suggestion had spooked him.
The last thing Adam needed was a romantic entanglement. He liked being single. He liked being in a relationship with the only person he could count on.
Himself.
CHAPTER FOUR
The dinner rush at Wade’s saloon was just about to start when the mayor walked in pushing a stroller. She glanced around the scatter of tables as if looking for someone and then brightened when she fixed on Holly.
Uh-oh. Holly wondered if Sage had come to apologize for her employee’s rude behavior earlier. Probably not. Adam was always rude to Holly and it wasn’t as if she ran around town blabbing about it. There were a few people in Painted Barrel that weren’t great tippers, but she didn’t gossip about it. She figured there were reasons, even if it meant stiffing her. Like the James family? The dad had been laid off in the spring, so she reasoned that’s why they all came in and ordered cheap and the tips were light. Or elderly Mr. Swanson, who had come in for dinner every day for the last ten years, ordered a tuna melt, and left a few quarters as his tip. He was old and on a fixed income, and maybe to him, the quarters were a good tip. She still treated him as nicely as she did any other customer.
And Adam Calhoun? Well, he was just a jerk at heart.
See, there was always a reason.
But Sage was a sweetheart and always tipped well, so Holly liked her. Everyone in town did. Some people just radiated kindness and a sincere desire to help make the world better, and Sage was one of those people. Holly put down the stack of sticky menus she was cleaning off and smiled at her friend. “Happy holidays! What brings you in?”
The mayor parked her two-seater stroller next to the bar and gave Holly a tired look. “Oh, just finishing up some last-minute work before Jason drags me out of town for a month.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe he wants a vacation during the Christmas holidays, but I’m pretty sure he needs a break.” She brightened. “So, I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get everything settled before we head out! Which is why I’m here.”
“Oh?” Holly grabbed a disposable cup and filled it with lemonade for Sage, then produced two cellophane-wrapped cookies that she’d baked to sit on the end of the bar. They were snowman-shaped, and she was hoping they’d take off and she could earn a little cash on the side to send to Polly . . . but Sage’s kids were too cute to resist.
Sage gave her a grateful look. “You are the best.”
“I’m just glad someone likes them. For some reason sweets don’t go well with beer.” Holly grinned at her. “What can I do for you?”
The mayor set a couple of green flyers on the bar. “Can you pass these out for me? It’s something we’re going to have in the Winter Festival. Kind of last-minute, but I’m hoping we get some decent entries.”
“I’m sure we can do that,” Holly assured her. She picked up a flyer and scanned it. Among the carnival games and craft booths listed, the lower half of the flyer was all about a Christmas Baking Contest.
BRING YOUR FAVORITE HOLIDAY CAKE AND WIN A PRIZE! WE’RE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING EXTRA FESTIVE THAT WILL MAKE OUR EYES LIGHT UP BRIGHTER THAN RUDOLPH’S NOSE! THE JUDGES WILL BE FROM CARLA’S SWEETS, PAINTED BARREL BAKE SHOP, AND MORE. SHOW US YOUR TALENT! ONE ENTRY PER HOUSEHOLD.
Holly read it twice, then looked up at Sage. “Like a bake-off?”
“Yes!” Sage brightened. “The mayor of North Fork loves our festival and suggested it. I think he’s a big fan of The Great British Bake Off. He wants to be a judge, too. I thought it might be fun. What do you think?”