Page 16 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)
SIXTEEN
B efore Molly could respond, Warrick reached toward her face. Her breath caught as his fingers gently brushed her cheek, then her hair, dislodging a speck of flour that had gone unnoticed.
“Occupational hazard,” he said softly.
“Hazards seem to follow us,” Molly replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
They stood close enough that she could detect the subtle scent of cedar and something wild beneath it—his natural tiger musk, earthy and masculine. Her magic stirred in response, making the nearest candle flame dance higher.
Warrick noticed and smiled. “I should go before your bakery decides to stage another magical intervention.”
Molly walked him to the door, hyperaware of his presence beside her. Outside, the streets of Whispering Pines were quiet, moonlight silvering the cobblestones.
“Same time next week?” Warrick asked, pausing at the threshold. “For our next... strategic appearance.”
The hesitation in his voice made Molly wonder if he too questioned how “fake” this dating arrangement truly was.
“I’d like that,” she said honestly.
“So would I,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Molly.”
The way he said her name—soft, almost reverently—made her heart flutter. “Goodnight, Warrick.”
As he stepped into the night, the bakery sign above the door glowed briefly—a soft, magical pulse that felt almost like approval. Molly watched until his tall figure disappeared around a corner, then closed the door, leaning against it with a sigh.
Who was she kidding? Nothing about this evening had felt fake. From the flutter in her stomach when he’d first arrived to the electricity of their accidental touches, every moment had resonated with genuine connection. She’d glimpsed the man behind the stern fire chief facade—thoughtful, protective, carrying centuries of experience yet still capable of wonder at new discoveries.
And the way he’d looked at her...like she was a rare ingredient he couldn’t quite categorize but desperately wanted to understand.
Molly moved through the bakery, extinguishing candles one by one. The darkness gathered around her, but she hardly noticed, lost in thoughts of golden eyes and rare smiles, of exotic ingredients and shared laughter.
“Fake dating,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. “Right.”
Her dreams tonight would be filled with tiger-gold eyes and the phantom touch of his fingers against her skin. Tomorrow, she’d see him across the town square and pretend her heart didn’t race at the sight of him. She’d wave casually as if they were merely acquaintances playing along with the town’s matchmaking schemes.
But in the privacy of her thoughts, she’d remember the way he said her name, the intensity in his gaze when their fingers touched, the promise of Thai lagoons and untold adventures hidden in his smile.
The last candle flickered out, leaving only moonlight streaming through the windows. Outside, something shifted in the shadows across the street—a brief movement, gone so quickly she might have imagined it.
Molly tightened the wards with a flick of her wrist before heading upstairs to her apartment. Whatever lurked in the darkness would have to wait. Tonight belonged to the memory of Warrick’s smile and the growing certainty that her heart was in serious danger of forgetting this was all supposed to be pretend.