Page 16 of Shotgun Spouse

Her protests died on her lips as Teddy set the plate in the sink. He turned back to her, his hand reaching out. Bunny thought he was going to take her hand again, but instead, his fingers gently brushed over her eyelid. He showed her his thumb. On it was a smudge of mascara.

“You’ve had a long day. You should go to bed.”

In his bed. The thought struck her like lightning, her pulse quickening as the reality of the situation settled over her. Sheopened her mouth to reply. No words came out. She just nodded, letting him take her hand when he reached for it.

His grip was warm and steady, his palm rough against hers, and yet she found herself clinging to it like an anchor. He led her out of the kitchen, pausing only to scoop up the baby’s car seat. The baby stirred but didn’t wake. The soft, rhythmic sound of her breathing filled the hallway as they walked.

The house was quiet, save for the distant howl of the wind outside. The walls seemed to absorb the storm, wrapping the three of them in a cocoon of warmth and stillness. Bunny’s hand felt small in his, her fingers tingling where their skin met. She tried not to focus on the sensation, but it was impossible to ignore the way her heart thudded in her chest, loud and insistent.

Teddy stopped in front of a door and pushed it open, revealing a bedroom that was every bit as masculine as she’d expected. The dark furniture was solid and understated. The deep navy bedding was neatly arranged, the faint scent of cedarwood and something uniquely Teddy hanging in the air.

He carried the car seat to the bed and placed it carefully on the comforter, then turned to face her. For a moment, neither of them spoke. His gaze lingered on her. Bunny felt as if the weight of the day was pressing down on her all over again. But this time, it wasn’t overwhelming. It was grounding.

“Make yourself at home,” he said finally. His eyes held hers for a beat longer, and then he nodded and slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Bunny stood there, rooted to the spot, her hand still warm from his touch. The room felt larger than it was, the bed looming in the center like an invitation she wasn’t sure how to accept. She walked to it slowly, sinking down onto the edge, her knees feeling oddly unsteady.

The mattress cradled her, the plush bedding wrapping around her like a hug. She leaned back slightly, inhaling deeply. The sheets smelled like him—clean, woodsy, with a hint of something warm and spicy she couldn’t quite place.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Bunny felt… safe. She was full, her worries momentarily silenced, and the weight of the day lifted as she let herself sink into the comfort of the bed. She curled up on her side, pulling the blanket over her, and closed her eyes.

Sleep came quickly, wrapping her in a cocoon of warmth and cedarwood.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Teddy closed the door to his bedroom softly. The act resulted in a satisfying click that echoed in the quiet house. Finally, he had her full attention. Sure, she was going to sleep, but she was still a captive audience just for him. And of course the baby, but the kid wasn't a paragon of conversation.

For a moment, Teddy lingered there. His hand remained on the doorknob, as though it were the lock that would keep her here. Keep her all to himself and finally make her see him in a way she hadn't before. Mainly because she was always shoving paper and pens at him and never looking in his eyes. If she had taken the time to look directly at him, she would see the truth.

Teddy got the sense that she had seen some of that truth over dinner. Definitely, as she lifted the cup of tea to her mouth and noticed the brand. He had been paying attention to her. He knew her.

The kitchen was still warm when he returned there. The smell of roasted chicken and rosemary hung in the air. The sight of the empty plate where Bunny had sat made him grin. She’d cleaned her plate, even gone back for seconds, and it wasn’t loston him how good it felt to have cooked for her and seen her enjoy it.

His gaze fell to the mug she’d left behind, still sitting on the counter. Her tea, her constant companion throughout their workdays. He picked it up. Like a bloodhound, he gave it a sniff, searching for a hint of her. It smelled like chamomile, floral, and a little earthy. Much like its biggest fan.

He stopped short of bringing the mug to his own lips to take a sip. The memory of his one disastrous attempt at drinking tea flashed back to him. It had tasted like someone had boiled grass and decided to call it a beverage. But still, her lips had been on this cup.

Teddy hesitated, then brought the rim to his mouth, brushing it lightly against his bottom lip. There was the barest hint of warmth left, a ghost of her touch, and for a fleeting moment, he let himself pretend. Then the bitter tang of leftover tea broke the spell, and he pulled back quickly, wrinkling his nose.

He moved to the sink, filling it with warm, soapy water and plunging the dishes in. The rhythmic splash of water against porcelain filled the space, a soothing counterpoint to the faint whistle of the wind outside. He worked methodically, scrubbing and rinsing, but his mind refused to quiet.

Out the window, the snow was falling heavier now, blanketing the world in a thick, silent layer of white. It would be at least two days before anyone could get up here. Two days. His stomach flipped at the thought. Two days to figure out a way to make Bunny see him—not as the scatterbrained mayor she tolerated, but as the man who’d been quietly, hopelessly in love with her for years.

Teddy dried the last plate and set it on the rack. How could he make her fall for him in two days when she still thought he was irresponsible? And then there was the baby.

Who would leave a baby on a doorstep? On his doorstep? He hadn’t dated in years, hadn’t even flirted with anyone seriously since Bunny started working for him. The idea that someone would think him a possible father was laughable—and more than a little insulting.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. The tension crept up his spine as he made his way to the living room. The couch, his makeshift bed for the night, looked inviting enough, but as he sank into the cushions, he caught a faint scent—soft, floral, earthy, with a hint of lemon, and unmistakably Bunny. It clung to the throw pillow she’d leaned against earlier.

Teddy buried his face in it, inhaling deeply. The scent was like a punch to the chest. It wasn’t just that it was hers—it was the way it made him feel grounded, present, connected. It was warm and comforting and entirely too distracting.

He flopped back onto the couch with a groan, throwing an arm over his face. The snowstorm howled outside. The real storm was in his chest, a swirling mix of hope, frustration, and longing. Sleep was a distant dream, as unreachable as the stars hidden behind the thick clouds above.

Two days, he thought, staring up at the ceiling. Two days to figure out how to show her what he already knew: that she was everything he’d ever wanted. He’d do whatever it took to prove it. If only he could figure out where to start.

Snow tapped softly against the windows, its persistent rhythm a reminder of how utterly cut off they were from the rest of the town. Normally, the thought of isolation didn’t bother him. He liked the quiet. But tonight, the quiet wasn’t empty—it was filled with the awareness that Bunny was sleeping just down the hall.

A faint, insistent ringing cut through the stillness. Teddy sat up. It wasn’t his cell phone—he’d checked it a dozen times, and it was dead. No, this sound was different. The satellite phone.

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