He made a dismissive sound. “You look good, girl. Have time to sit and have a coffee? Or are you on the clock?”
Josie looked pointedly around the almost empty dining room and shrugged. “Coffee sounds good.”
Teddy sat while Josie put a few sugar cookies and gingerbread men on a plate. She poured two cups of hot coffee, added some eggnog and carried the whole tray to the table.
“You look like you’re getting the hang of things here,” Teddy said once Josie sat.
“It wasn’t that long ago I worked here, remember?” She grinned. “If Miss Worley and Eli hadn’t made so many tubs of dough, I’d be in big trouble.”
“Glad Eli was a help.” Teddy sipped his coffee. “He’s a good boy. But he has his moments.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“Reminds me a lot of his daddy.” Teddy nodded. “How’s your dad?”
“His checkup yesterday went really well. He can start walking and doing a little.”
“A little, huh? Good thing you’re here.” He took another sip, his gaze meeting Josie’s. “Planning on staying?”
Josie shook her head.
“You’re missed around here.”
Josie stared at the sugar cookies on the plate. “There’s a lot I’ve missed about Stonewall Crossing.”
“Oh?” Teddy took a gingerbread cookie. “Hunter said you’re working with the kids on their Christmas float.”
“I haven’t done a thing except tell them how nice the float looks.” She smiled. “And it does.”
“What else have you been up to? You’ve been moving around a bunch.”
She nodded. “I think being restless is part of the artist thing. But I’ve been offered a job teaching art at my alma mater in New Mexico.”
“Good for you.” Teddy looked impressed. “I always knew you’d do good things. Like your books. Eli’s copy of 34 has a frayed spine and dog-eared pages, we read it so much. It helped him through some tough times. Hunter, too, I think.”
She stared at the cookies. Before Eli hated her, he’d found comfort in her stories. And that was something. That he and Hunter shared them was all the better. The rush of heat in her cheeks assured her that, yes, she was blushing. Teddy’s broad grin assured her that, yes, he’d noticed.
“Any more stories in the works?”
“Actually,” Josie admitted, “Stonewall Crossing at Christmas deserves a story. Maybe.” It had been a long time since she’d felt the pull of her sketch pad and writing journal, and she’d missed it. “But you’re the first person I’ve told, so let’s keep it a secret for now.”
“Just me?” Teddy’s brow furrowed. “No fella?”
“No. And that’s okay.” She shrugged. “I haven’t found the right guy yet.”
Teddy’s smile was huge. “No?”
Josie couldn’t help but smile back. “No.”
“Well, I best be on my way. But I really do want to buy some gingerbread dough, please, ma’am. Something we can give our guests with hot chocolate. Been meaning to talk to your dad about letting me sell some out at the Lodge—good for business and all.”
“Is that Teddy Boone?” her father called from the door that connected the house to the bakery.
“Hello, Carl.” Teddy was all charm. “How’s the hip, old man? Time to get you an electric scooter or is that walker worki
ng for you?”
“Kind of you to offer me yours, Teddy. But you can keep it for now. Come back in a month and I’ll race ya, grandpa,” her father shot back.