Page 35 of Shotgun Spouse

Her thoughts were spinning. Was this real? Could this really be happening? She stared at him, searching his face for any hint of doubt. There was none.

“Kiss her already!”

That came from the peanut gallery of kids in the street. The adults murmured their assent with a mix of gasps and laughter rippling through the snow-filled air.

Bunny barely registered any of it. All she could see, all she could feel, was Teddy.

And then he kissed her.

The world fell away, the icy wind forgotten as his lips claimed hers. It wasn’t a tentative kiss. It was bold, passionate, all-consuming. Bunny’s hands slid up to his chest, curling into his shirt as she kissed him back with equal fervor.

The townspeople gasped again, followed by an audible “Aww” from someone in the crowd. Bunny didn’t care who.

"I need you," Teddy said against her lips, loud enough that only she could hear. "Please don't leave me."

"Fine, since you'd be lost without me."

He grinned against the corner of her mouth. "I would indeed."

As they twined their fingers together, Bunny felt a shudder pass through Teddy. He was such a guy, pretending he wasn’t cold despite standing in just a button-down shirt in the biting winter wind. The thin material barely moved in the gusts. Bunny felt his body bracing against the chill through his hand.

“Let’s get you inside before you catch pneumonia,” she muttered, quickening her pace and tugging him forward.

"Sure, if you think that's the best look," he said as he followed, grinning at her.

They were just steps from the office door when someone stepped directly into their path. Bunny almost groaned, but her focus shifted as the figure emerged—a teacher from the elementary school. The woman, bundled in a puffy coat and a knitted scarf, didn’t look cold at all. Her gaze, however, was piercing, and it was directed squarely at Teddy.

"Mayor Carter, you still have that open door policy?"

"I do, Mrs. Addison. What can I do for you today?"

"I'd like to have a word about why you stopped funding for the after-school program?"

Teddy frowned. "I didn't."

Bunny swallowed. That was the truth. Teddy hadn't stopped the funding. The paperwork was still sitting on his desk because she had purposefully not reminded him.

She looked out at all the kids playing in the street. She looked at the social worker who held the baby in his arms. This town had done just fine in an emergency. The adults pulled together and did what needed to be done. It was the kids that needed looking after, and Bunny had dropped the ball.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“She’s not even that great at writing speeches. You riff most of the time because that's your strong suit." Frank leaned forward, his big body taking up half of Teddy's desk, his voice dripping with exasperation. "The after-school program funding, Teddy. That was your priority. And she deliberately screwed it up.”

Teddy leaned back in his chair, the weight of the day pressing on his chest like a physical burden. The chatter in the room swirled around him—Frank’s sharp-edged criticism, Preston’s calculated neutrality, and the murmured voices of others trying to dissect the situation. All of it grated on his nerves.

They were trying to place the blame squarely on Bunny. Was it her responsibility to remind him to sign the documents? Maybe. It was clear she had favored the business grant over the after-school program—he’d seen it in the meticulous care she’d put into her proposal. But had she deliberately withheld the reminder, knowing where her priorities lay? Teddy wasn’t sure. And deep down, did it even matter?

The damage was done, and as mayor, it was his job to fix it. His decisions—or lack of them—had consequences, and this onewas spiraling fast. He rubbed his temple, tuning out the voices for a moment, his mind racing to figure out a way forward.

Bunny wasn’t entirely blameless. But neither was he. If anything, this was a reminder of something he already knew: delegation didn’t mean absolution.

“She’s good, don’t get me wrong,” Frank added, though his tone suggested the opposite. “But women like Bunny—they get too emotional, too caught up in their little ideas of what’s best. She oversteps, Teddy. She doesn’t know her place. And this grant proposal? Yeah, it’s a nice win, but it’s not the win we needed.”

He stared at Frank, suddenly seeing his long-time confidant in a different light. A friend who had been by his side through campaigns and late-night debates, sure, but a friend who now sounded... small. Petty. Dismissive.

“Bunny’s little ideas are what keep this office running. She’s the reason half our initiatives even get off the ground.”

Frank scoffed, waving a hand. “Don’t get sentimental. You’re the face of this town. The leader. Not her. And that’s why you need to think bigger. Forget these local squabbles and small-town grants. You should be eyeing the state Senate. Even Congress someday.”

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