Page 6 of Shotgun Spouse

As he trudged up the walk, his eyes drifted toward Bunny’s apartment a few blocks down. She’d be fine, of course. She lived close enough to the office to avoid the worst of it. Maybe he should stay in town tonight. His office had a pull-out sofa for the nights he didn't want to drive the distance to his cabin at the edge of town. If he was snowed in and Bunny was just a few blocks away, he could get snowed in with her.

The thought was all too tempting. No interruptions. No policies. Just the two of them.

A bundle of something sat on the doorstep. His first thought was that it was a delivery, and they hadn't bothered coming inside.

Teddy crouched down. It was a basket, covered by a blanket. No, not a basket. Was that a car seat? And then the bundle moved.

Teddy froze. For a split second, he thought he’d imagined it, but then a tiny foot kicked out, poking through the blanket covering the bundle.

CHAPTER FOUR

The room buzzed with polite chatter, the kind of conversation filled with carefully chosen words and tightly restrained ambition. Bunny stood near the back, her fingers clutching the neatly typed speech she’d worked on for hours. The paper was still warm from the printer.

The business leaders in the room weren’t just here for the crab cakes and champagne—they were here to be impressed, to decide if Mayor Carter’s administration was worth their support for another term. Problem was, the mayor was nowhere to be found.

“Still no answer.” Frank snapped his flip phone shut with a frustrated sigh. His furrowed brow and red face made him look like a steam engine ready to burst. “If he doesn’t show up soon, someone’s going to have to speak for him.”

Bunny’s gaze flicked to Preston, who was working the room like a campaign manager, hedging his bets. His smile was just a little too slick, his laughter just a little too loud as he schmoozed the crowd. Nearby, Grant stood with a small group of donors, his posture confident, his tone low and conspiratorial.

Frank sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. “Grant will love this."

"I could give the spee?—"

Frank snatched the printed papers from her hands and marched over to Grant. He clearly hadn't heard her. Or hadn't registered her words as they left her mouth.

As part of the old boy's club, Frank hadn't been a supporter of the previous mayor. He'd been cheering at her downfall, though Bunny caught him smirking at her closed door office antics with her young aides. Still, Frank had no interest in having a woman in charge. Bunny had never even met his wife in all the years she'd worked in the mayor's office. Frank constantly bragged that the woman was tending to his home and making sure his dinner was hot.

The two men put their heads together, and then Grant climbed onto the stage with Bunny's printed words in hand. The bright lights caught on the gelled shine of his hair. He tapped the microphone once, the feedback making a few people wince.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here tonight. As you know, our administration has been hard at work creating a vision for our town’s future.”

Bunny noted that he saidourinstead ofMayor Carter's, but at least he didn't say it was his administration. Grant's delivery was stiff, his tone flat. She’d spent hours crafting the speech, making it warm and engaging, and he was butchering it line by line. At least when Teddy riffed, he had a warm tone that made people listen.

“And with your continued support, we can ensure that this vision becomes a reality. Uh… where was I?”

A murmur rippled through the audience as Grant flipped the paper over, his eyes darting across the lines like he was reading them for the first time. Because that's exactly what he was doing.

“Excuse me,” came a voice from the press section. “Could you elaborate on the proposed tax incentives for local businesses?”

Grant froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Uh… well… that’s something we’re, um, currently… reviewing.”

This was always the worst part, when the room started slipping out of the speaker's control. The business leaders shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The press leaned forward, sensing blood in the water.

Bunny looked for Frank, but he was headed out the door, his phone pressed to his ear. Bunny didn’t think. She just acted.

“What Mayor Carter’s administration has proposed is a tiered tax incentive program that prioritizes small and medium-sized businesses, ensuring that growth starts at the community level.”

All heads turned to her, the spotlight figuratively and literally shifting as she made her way to the stage. Grant stepped back, flustered, as she took the microphone.

“By focusing on local businesses, we not only boost the economy but also create a stronger, more resilient town. The mayor’s plan ensures that resources are allocated fairly with long-term sustainability in mind.”

The tension in the room began to dissipate as Bunny answered question after question, her knowledge and poise winning over even the most skeptical faces. After it was over and the polite applause had died down, Bunny remained behind the podium. Her hands gripped its edges, her pulse still racing from the adrenaline of stepping into the spotlight. The speech she’d delivered—a last-minute, off-the-cuff mix of her carefully prepared remarks and quick responses to audience questions—had landed far better than she’d expected.

“You were brilliant up there,” said a voice behind her.

She turned to see Mrs. Imani, one of the town’s biggest donors, approaching with a bright smile and a firm handshake. The older woman radiated the kind of no-nonsense energyBunny had always admired, and her words carried weight in this town.

“Thank you,” Bunny said, her cheeks warming. “I’m just glad I could step in and help.”

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