Page 15 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

FIFTEEN

M olly laughed despite her embarrassment. “It’s usually more controlled. You bring out the worst in my kitchenware.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His smile deepened, transforming his serious face into something almost boyish. “Better magical mishaps than actual fires.”

Their shared laughter eased the tension but didn’t erase it entirely. As they continued experimenting with the exotic ingredients, Molly found herself hyperaware of every movement he made—the concentrated furrow of his brow as he tasted something complex, the careful precision of his hands, the occasional flicker of gold in his eyes when something delighted him.

She wondered what it would be like to have those eyes watching her every day, to have those hands touch her with purpose rather than accident, to be the cause of that rare, transformative smile.

Stop it, she scolded herself. This is pretend. Strategy, not romance.

But her treacherous heart wasn’t listening.

“You said you never settled in one place,” she ventured after a comfortable silence had stretched between them. “Does Whispering Pines feel different?”

Warrick considered the question, rolling a drop of blue essence between his fingers before answering. “It might. The town has a... pull to it. A sense of potential I haven’t encountered often.”

“The ley lines under the town center amplify magical connections,” Molly explained, trying to sound scholarly rather than hopeful. “Some people believe they draw compatible souls together over time.”

“Is that why half the town seems determined to push us together?” Warrick asked, one eyebrow raised. “Magical compatibility?”

“The witches would say yes.” Molly’s cheeks warmed. “They take matchmaking as a personal mission.”

“And what would you say?” Warrick’s question was soft but direct.

Molly’s pulse quickened. “I’d say... I’m starting to appreciate their persistence.”

His eyes darkened to amber fire. “As am I.”

For a moment, Molly allowed herself to imagine this wasn’t pretend—that they were simply a witch and a shifter exploring the chemistry that had sparked between them from their first chaotic meeting.

Warrick leaned forward slightly. “Molly?—“

A sudden blue flash cut him off. The ward crystals near the windows flared with warning light outside the kitchen, their protective magic sensing something outside. Warrick was on his feet instantly, body coiled with tension as he scanned the bakery’s perimeter.

“Stay here,” he said, voice dropping to a low rumble as he moved toward the door.

Molly’s heart pounded against her ribs as she watched him transform—not physically, but in stance and presence. This was the predator beneath the man, alert and dangerous. She thought of Gus Niles’s hostile glare through the window days earlier, the darkness in his expression when he’d watched her and Warrick laughing together.

Outside, a light fixture rattled in the evening breeze. The ward crystals flickered once more, then dimmed completely.

Warrick’s shoulders remained tense as he surveyed the empty street. After a long moment, he returned to the table where Molly now stood.

“False alarm?” Molly asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Possibly,” he said, though his expression suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced. “The wind might have triggered something with latent magic. This town has layers of old spells everywhere.”

Molly nodded, but a chill lingered despite the bakery’s warmth. She’d lived in Whispering Pines long enough to trust her instincts, and something about the timing felt deliberate rather than coincidental.

Warrick seemed to read her thoughts. “The fire department has had some... incidents lately. Probably just pranks, but I’ve increased security measures.”

“Pranks?” Molly frowned. “What kind of incidents?”

“Nothing serious,” he said, a little too quickly. “Equipment malfunctions, mostly.”

His casual dismissal didn’t match the alertness in his posture or the way his eyes continued to flick toward the windows. Molly recognized the protective instinct—he was trying to spare her worry.

Something softened in her chest at the realization. He wasn’t just guarding her bakery; he was guarding her peace of mind.

“It wouldn’t be Whispering Pines without a magical scare or two,” she said lightly, trying to dispel the tension.

Warrick’s expression softened as he returned to his seat. “No, I suppose not.” His eyes searched her face. “You’re not easily frightened.”

“Flora witches have their own defenses,” Molly answered with a small smile. “I might look harmless, but I’ve survived twenty-seven Bloom Festivals. Those get vicious.”

That drew a laugh from him—a genuine sound that transformed his entire face. “I’d like to hear that story someday.”

“Next time,” Molly promised, her heart warming at the implication of future evenings together.

She glanced at the clock and realized they’d been experimenting for over two hours. “It’s getting late.”

Warrick nodded, helping her gather dishes without being asked. They worked in companionable silence, the practiced efficiency of two people accustomed to managing their own spaces. Their hands brushed occasionally, each contact sending tiny sparks across Molly’s skin.

When the last bowl was dried and put away, they stood facing each other in the center of the bakery. The awkwardness of a first date’s conclusion settled between them—complicated by its “fake” nature that felt increasingly real.

“I boxed up some of the experimental pastries,” Molly said, handing him a small container. “A taste of magic for later.”

“Thank you.” Their fingers brushed during the exchange, lingering a moment longer than necessary. “Not just for the pastries. This evening was... unexpectedly enjoyable.”

“High praise from someone who’s had three centuries of evenings to compare it to,” she teased, trying to lighten the suddenly charged atmosphere.

His expression turned serious. “Most of those evenings blur together. This one... won’t.”