Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
T he warm, savory aroma of garlic, onions, and rosemary filled Teddy’s kitchen. He stood at the stove, the heat of the burner radiating against his hands as he stirred a pot of creamy, bubbling sauce. His shoulders were tense but steady, his focus laser-sharp on the task at hand.
The dish he was making was simple but soulful—chicken fricassee, his mother’s favorite. When he was a teen, he'd come home to find leftovers in the fridge with a love note. But the food never tasted the same after he'd heated it up in the microwave.
He'd looked up the recipe online, saw that they still had the ingredients in the fridge, and had gotten to work. His mother had walked in, exhausted and frazzled, only to stop dead in her tracks at the sight of the table set and the steaming dish waiting for her. The way her eyes had softened, the way her lips had quirked into a rare, unguarded smile—it was a moment that stayed with him, one that taught him the power of acts of service.
Most strong women shared the love language of acts of service. They were so used to doing things for others and not asking for anything in return, even though they craved the same care they doled out. From that day forward, whenever Teddy could, he made dinner, cleaned the house, and did all he could to make his mother's life easier.
Now, standing in his much larger kitchen, Teddy hoped this meal might say what he couldn’t find the words for. He wanted Bunny to see him—not as her infuriating, scatterbrained boss, but as someone who could anticipate her needs, lighten her load, and be her partner in more ways than one.
The soft creak of the hardwood floor under Bunny’s steps filled the quiet of Teddy’s home. It mingled with the baby’s soft hiccups and murmurs. Bunny moved slowly, rocking the baby in her arms with a soothing rhythm. Teddy crossed his arms loosely over his chest, utterly transfixed.
The baby’s cries had quieted to a soft coo. The tension in the room had melted into a calm stillness. It wasn’t the chicken or the house or even the peaceful silence that held Teddy’s attention. It was Bunny.
She had kicked off her heels a few minutes ago, muttering something about them being a necessary evil. Now, barefoot and relaxed, she was a vision that struck Teddy straight in the chest. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders as she leaned her head close to the baby’s, murmuring softly in a voice he couldn’t quite hear but felt deep inside. She looked more at ease than he’d seen her in years.
Teddy’s gaze dropped to her bare feet, her toes curling against the cool floor. He swallowed, feeling his inner caveman surfacing. Barefoot, holding a baby she’d insisted on caring for despite every reason not to, she looked like she belonged here. Like she belonged with him.
He imagined this scene replaying itself a thousand different ways. Bunny holding their child, rocking and cooing just as she was now. Bunny glancing at him with that same soft focus, her lips curving into a knowing smile. Bunny, barefoot in his home, filling every quiet corner of his life with her presence.
Bunny glanced up, her dark eyes meeting his. The soft curve of her lips parted, and her brows knitted slightly as she tilted her head. He forgot how to breathe.
“Is something burning?”
Teddy spun on his heel, rushing toward the oven. A faint trail of smoke curled from the edge of the door. He yanked it open, coughing as a plume of heat and charred herbs hit him. Grabbing a dish towel, he pulled the tray out and set it on the counter, grimacing at the singed edges of what had once been a perfectly golden roast.
Teddy set the plates down on the island. Bunny tucked the baby back into the car seat. The kid let out a tiny sigh, content and snug under the blanket Bunny adjusted around her. The snow outside had turned into a whiteout, a solid sheet that blurred the edges of the world into an indistinct glow.
“I didn’t think this through. How am I going to get back home?”
“You’re not,” Teddy said simply. “You’re not getting out of here tonight.”
Bunny turned, her lips pressing into a thin line. She sighed heavily, then slumped into one of the chairs at the kitchen island. Her phone was in her hand, the screen glowing as she fiddled with it. A moment later, she let out another sigh, this one more frustrated.
“No signal. I had things to do for my sisters.”
Teddy placed a mug of tea next to her plate. “Aren’t your sisters grown women?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Maybe they can handle things on their own for one night.”
She set her phone down and stared at the plate in front of her but didn’t pick up her fork. “I’ll sleep on the couch and head out in the morning.”
“You'll sleep in my bed.”
Her head whipped around, her eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“You’ll take the bed. I’ll take the couch. Figured you’d want to stay with the baby, anyway.” Teddy kept his face carefully neutral, but inside, he felt a flicker of amusement at how suspicious she looked.
Her glare softened slightly, but she said nothing. Instead, she focused on her plate. She took her first bite. The fork paused halfway back to the plate as her mouth formed a soft, involuntary “O.” Her lips curved. Her brows lifted. Her expression was one of pure, unguarded delight.
Teddy couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at his lips. She took another bite, her movements slower this time, savoring the flavors. For a moment, there was no sound but the soft ticking of the clock and the occasional contented sigh from the baby.
Teddy leaned back, watching her. There was something in the way she sat there, in his kitchen, eating the meal he’d cooked. That felt so... right. He didn’t care about the snowstorm, the baby, or even the fact that they’d probably have to explain this night to half the town come morning.
Right now, this moment was enough. And for Teddy, that was everything.