Page 32 of Shotgun Spouse
Her cheeks flushed as she thought about the way he’d kissed her. He’d told her exactly what he wanted, clear and confident, and then—he’d let her take the lead. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t demanded, hadn’t tried to control the moment. He’d just let her be. And it had been perfect.
Bunny felt her pulse quicken. Her fingers brushed over her lips as the memory of his mouth on hers came rushing back. She wanted more of that kiss. She wanted more of him.
She straightened in her chair, her resolve hardening like steel. Teddy Carter had taught her something important—not just about trust, but about letting go, about finding the balance between leading and following.
Kitty looked over at her, raising an eyebrow. “You okay? You look like you just solved a quadratic equation or something.”
Bunny smiled, her first real smile in hours. “Something like that.”
Birdy rolled her eyes. “Whatever it is, save it for later. You’re cutting into my tea time.”
Bunny ignored her, standing and smoothing down her shirt. “Actually, I think I’ve got something I need to take care of.”
Birdy and Kitty exchanged glances, but Bunny was already heading for the door. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was finally ready to stop micromanaging and start trusting—and maybe even start letting herself want.
And at the top of her list of wants? Teddy Carter. And another one of those kisses.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Teddy gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary as Frank’s droning voice filled the cabin of the SUV. The winter sun glared low on the horizon, reflecting off the pristine blanket of snow outside. Inside, though, the temperature was rising, thanks to the cacophony of opinions coming from both his front passenger and backseat occupants.
“All I’m saying is that Bunny’s departure is inevitable." It was the fifth time that Frank had said it. "She's one of those modern career women. Not the kind of woman to play doting wife. And what you need is a mother for your baby as well as a new communications director."
Teddy had no plans to recast the role of his future wife, nor refill the position in his cabinet with anyone else. There was no one he wanted to communicate with more than Bunny Chou.
“How about naming her Eleanor?" His mother chimed in from the backseat, completely ignoring the tension up front. "It's a power couple's name; Theodore and his daughter Eleanor."
Teddy groaned, adjusting the rearview mirror to glance at not-Eleanor. She was happily cooing, bundled snugly in a pink blanket and chewing on her tiny fist.
“The election is coming up. You need stability. Someone dependable. Someone who won’t undermine your campaign by running against you?—”
"Freya? Or maybe Makeda? Do you like that, little Keda? My strong warrior princess."
Teddy pulled into the parking lot of the mayor’s office, his tires crunching over the salt-streaked pavement. The streets were clear enough to navigate, but snowbanks towered along the curbs, narrowing many of the town’s two-lane roads to awkward, single-lane negotiations. Drivers had no choice but to exchange courtesy waves and hesitant nods as they edged past one another. A few ambitious kids had already turned the towering piles of snow into makeshift forts, their shouts and laughter echoing faintly through the crisp air.
The mayor’s office sat in quiet dignity, its stone façade dusted with a fine layer of snow like powdered sugar on a bundt cake. Teddy pulled into his designated spot and killed the engine. As soon as the car stopped, he was out, moving with purpose to the back seat.
"I got her, Ma."
"Good, because I want to go grab some breakfast for you."
"I already ate back home."
"You need a second breakfast. I swear, you're skin and bones."
It was after lunch, but Teddy didn't argue with his mother. He scooped the baby from her car seat with a motion that was becoming second nature, her little body warm and snug against his chest. She gurgled in delight, her tiny fingers latching on to the end of his tie like it was her personal security blanket. Teddy looked down at her as her toothless smile lit up her face. The stress of the drive—the plows forcing him to weave through half-cleared streets, the stray chunks of icy slush kicked up by passing cars—melted away.
The town was battered but not broken. People were out shoveling their sidewalks, waving to one another as they worked. The smell of snow lingered in the air, mingling with the faint bite of exhaust from the plows that had done their duty. It was messy, sure, but it was home. He was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The sound of laughter and shrill cries of delight carried through the crisp air as a group of kids flung snowballs at each other near the steps of the mayor’s office. A particularly large snowball splattered against a tree trunk, drawing a round of cheers from the kids. When they caught sight of Teddy, one of the older boys paused, his snowball halfway to his target.
“Mayor Carter,” the boy called, waving. The others turned and stared, their eyes immediately landing on the bundled-up baby in his arms.
Teddy braced himself, knowing what was coming.
“Whoa.” A little girl with pigtails ran up, her boots crunching in the snow. “Is that your baby?”
The group of adolescents crowded around, their excitement spilling into an impromptu interrogation.
