Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
S o the man wasn’t entirely useless. Teddy Carter could cook. He could cook really well. Well, now that he’d discarded his earlier attempt that had taken on a little too much flame.
The savory aroma of rosemary and butter lingered in the air, wrapping around Bunny like a cozy blanket as she reluctantly set her fork down. The plate in front of her was nearly spotless, the sauce wiped clean by the last bite of bread she’d shamelessly used to soak it up. She only just stopped herself from swiping her finger through the drippings—barely.
Bunny leaned back in her chair, trying to summon some shred of willpower, but when Teddy slid another helping onto her plate, the soft clink of the serving spoon against porcelain made her stomach growl in betrayal.
“Seriously?” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”
Teddy grinned, his dimples showing as he pushed the steaming plate toward her. “You looked like you wanted more. Thought I’d save you the trouble of asking.”
Her mouth twitched, caught between exasperation and gratitude. She wanted to say no, to resist the temptation, but her stomach had other ideas. She picked up her fork, muttering, “Well, it’d be rude to let it go to waste.”
Teddy chuckled, and Bunny couldn’t help but notice how his laugh warmed the room more than the heater humming quietly in the background. Then, as if he weren’t already making her head spin, he set a steaming mug of tea next to her plate. Her favorite brand. The one she drank religiously every day at 10 a.m.
Bunny stirred the tea. She wasn’t sure what unnerved her more—the fact that he’d noticed or the fact that it made her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t prepared to unpack.
“You must have a lot of practice,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Cooking for women in this house, I mean.”
“I've never brought a woman to this house. You’re the first.”
“The first?”
“Aside from my mother, you’re the only woman who’s ever been in here.”
Something in her chest gave a little flutter. She shushed the butterflies down, telling them that he probably took his conquests back to their places after dates. Though, come to think of it, she hadn't seen him out on the town with any conquests. Hadn't heard about any exploits.
Sure, she'd seen him with women. But come to think of it, they were usually the mothers of children he was playing sports with in after school or weekend programs. Many of them were married, but Bunny saw how they stole glances at Mayor Carter's backside when he turned around.
She wracked her brain, trying to think of a single instance when she’d seen him on a date. Nothing came to mind. He was always with the guys from the office or out playing basketball or soccer with the kids.
Her thoughts were interrupted when she glanced down and realized her plate was, once again, completely clean. She pressed a hand to her stomach. She was stuffed, but she still eyed the pan on the stove where another helping remained.
Casually—too casually—she said, “If you’re not going to eat the rest, I’d be happy to take it home.”
“No way. This dish is best served warm, right out of the oven. Leftovers don’t do it justice. If you want more, all you have to do is ask. I’ll make it fresh for you.”
Something caught in her throat. It couldn't have been food because she'd swallowed every morsel down. But there was something there.
She wasn’t used to this—to someone offering to take care of her without expecting anything in return. It felt... foreign. Disconcerting. And oddly comforting.
For the first time in a long while, Bunny didn’t know what to say. So she didn’t say anything at all.
She slid off the stool, her belly full and her thoughts heavier than she cared to admit. She carried her plate to the sink. The faint clink of porcelain against steel broke the quiet. The warmth of the kitchen lingered on her skin, a contrast to the icy snowstorm raging just outside. As she scanned the countertops, her gaze landed on a cabinet under the sink. She instinctively reached for it, searching for cleaning supplies.
“What are you doing?”
“You cooked,” she replied matter-of-factly. “So I’ll clean.”
“Not in my house. I made the mess; I’ll clean it up.”
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. She opened 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.