Page 17 of Stealing Kisses

? Vintage boxes

? Postcards

? Sticker display

? Bookmarks

? Food and produce for booth:

? Butter

? Eggs

? Goat cheese

? Jams and jellies

? Salsa

? Canned fruits

? Peaches

? Pears

? Apple pie filling

? Blackberry pie filling

? Cherry pie filling

? Black-eyed peas

? Green beans

The list went on and on for pages.

No one person could get this much done.Good grief, when does she sleep?

Teddy flipped off the coffeemaker, turned off the lights, and dashed to find his hostess.

Because she needed some help.

He spotted her in a fenced yard, clucking to chickens while tossing feed in the same manner the brusque February wind tossed the long waves of her red hair. No, not red…and less auburn than it had looked indoors. The bright early morning sun turned it copper in color.

Trade her form-fitting, curve-defining modern blue jeans for a long skirt, and in that setting, she could’ve traveled to anytime in history. She embodied the image of a strong, hardworking woman greeting the day with chores on her farm…could’ve been pre-Civil War, the 1920s, or turn of the twenty-first century. She would be a ravishing beauty in any era.

On that day in 2021, the vision Baylin created across the yard did strange things to Teddy’s equilibrium. And to his heart! He rubbed his chest to calm a flutter.

When she disappeared inside the chicken coop, Teddy shook off his daydream and jogged over to see how he could assist.

“Want some help?” he asked from the doorway, startling Baylin into dropping an egg.

“No,” she replied with a smirk.

“Oops. Sorry,” he said, chagrined. “Need me to clean that up?”

“No,” she repeated, her voice short, flat, and final.

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