Page 22 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

TWENTY-TWO

W arrick didn’t deny it, taking a long sip of his coffee instead.

“Look,” Reed said, his tone gentler. “We’re not actually suggesting you rush anything. But maybe acknowledge what everyone else already sees? You look at her like she hung the moon.”

“The way Kade looked at Celeste,” Roarke added. “The way we all look at our mates.”

The word hung in the air between them. Mate. So they had noticed.

“She’s not a shifter,” Warrick said quietly. “She doesn’t have the same instinctive recognition.”

Understanding dawned on their faces. Kade nodded slowly.

“Ah. So that’s it. You know, but she needs time.”

“Celeste isn’t a shifter but she swears she knew before I did,” Kade admitted with a sheepish grin. “Witches have their own way of recognizing these things. Their magic responds.”

Warrick thought of Molly’s floating utensils, the way candles flared higher when their fingers touched, how her entire bakery seemed to hum with energy in his presence.

“Her magic definitely... responds,” he acknowledged.

The men laughed, the tension breaking.

“Trust me,” Reed said, “she knows something special is happening, even if she doesn’t have the word ‘mate’ for it yet. Ellie says Molly can’t stop talking about you.”

A surge of pleasure rippled through Warrick at this information. “She talks about me?”

“Constantly, according to the reports I get,” Reed confirmed. “Apparently, you’re ‘fascinating’ and ‘surprisingly sweet under all that seriousness.’”

Warrick tried and failed to suppress a smile, earning a round of good-natured groans from the table.

“Gods help us, he’s smitten,” Bram declared. “Never thought I’d see the day the new and very stern fire chief would go soft over a witch.”

“I’m not soft,” Warrick growled, though without real heat.

“Your tiger’s practically purring right now,” Kade pointed out. “We can sense it, remember?”

Caught, Warrick shook his head ruefully. “Fine. I enjoy her company. She’s... special.”

“Special,” Roarke repeated with a raised eyebrow. “That’s the word you’re going with?”

“What do you want from me?” Warrick challenged, though he knew his expression had softened.

“An invitation to the wedding would be nice,” Reed joked.

“I’m not?—“

“Pushing her, we know,” Bram finished for him. “But maybe ask her to the Fireman’s Ball? Officially? That would at least give the witches something concrete to focus on.”

Warrick considered this. He’d already mentioned the ball to Molly last night, suggesting she might help with planning. Taking her as his formal date would be a natural next step.

“I was planning to ask her,” he admitted.

“Thank the stars,” Kade said, raising his hands in mock praise. “Finally, a crumb for the gossip mill. Maybe now Celeste will stop leaving bridal magazines around the house.”

“I’d focus on keeping Molly smiling if I were you,” Reed advised more seriously. “These women notice everything. Ellie says she hasn’t seen Molly this happy in years.”

The thought of Molly’s happiness—that he might be the cause of it—filled Warrick with a fierce, protective joy. His tiger rumbled in satisfaction. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted—to be the reason for her smile, her laughter. To protect that happiness with everything he had.

“I have no intention of doing anything else,” Warrick said, his voice low and certain.

The men exchanged knowing glances.

“And they say romance is dead,” Bram quipped.

Roarke, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You know, they’re not wrong about the matchmaking. Daisy’s been collecting hair from both of you for some kind of compatibility spell.”

Warrick’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s been what?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been confiscating it,” Roarke assured him. “But they’re determined.”

“Terrifyingly so,” Kade agreed.

Reed groaned. “We’ve averted so many close calls.”

As they launched into tales of the witches’ matchmaking mishaps, Warrick found himself actually enjoying the camaraderie. In his long life, he’d rarely allowed himself to form close bonds, knowing he would eventually move on, outliving human friends and leaving communities behind before his agelessness raised questions.

But here in Whispering Pines, surrounded by other long-lived supernaturals who understood his nature, something was different. He was putting down roots, forming connections that could last.

And at the center of it all was Molly—warm, vibrant Molly with her magical chaos and infectious laugh.

“Earth to Warrick,” Reed waved a hand in front of his face. “Lost you there for a minute. Thinking about a certain baker?”

“Just considering my options for the ball,” Warrick replied smoothly.

“Sure you were,” Bram snorted. “That dopey smile was definitely about event planning.”

Warrick didn’t bother denying it this time. “I should get back to the station. Some of us have actual work to do.”

“Run along then,” Kade said, standing to clear their mugs. “But fair warning—if you don’t make some official move soon, the witches are planning an intervention at the Full Moon Festival next week.”

“What kind of intervention?” Warrick asked, suspicious.

The four men exchanged glances laden with meaning.

“Let’s just say it involves enchanted pastries, mood lighting, and a ‘convenient’ power outage at the bakery,” Reed finally said. “Ellie’s been practicing her atmospheric spells.”

“Consider yourself warned,” Roarke added solemnly. “These women are ruthless when they set their minds to something.”

Warrick stood, leaving payment for his coffee on the table. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

“Just doing our part to protect a fellow man,” Bram said with a grin.

As Warrick headed for the door, Kade called after him: “Tell Molly her order for the Lunar Committee meeting is ready for pickup!”

Warrick raised a hand in acknowledgment, stepping out into the morning sunshine. The conversation had been enlightening, if slightly alarming. The witches’ determination to see him and Molly together went beyond casual matchmaking—though their methods seemed more humorous than malicious.

And the information about Molly talking about him, thinking about him... his tiger practically preened at the knowledge.

He pulled out his phone, hesitating only briefly before typing:

Need to pick up your order at the Lone Wolf. Meet for lunch later?

Her reply was almost immediate:

Caffeine rescue mission? My hero! Lunch sounds perfect. Noon at the bakery? I’ll have special tiger-friendly treats ready.

His lips curved into a smile as he typed:

Noon it is. Looking forward to it.

Pocketing his phone, Warrick headed toward the station with a lighter step than usual. She was his mate—his tiger had no doubts about that. Whether it took weeks or months for her to fully recognize their connection didn’t matter. He’d waited three centuries to find her; he could be patient a little longer.

In the meantime, he’d cherish each moment, each smile, each instance of her magical chaos responding to his presence. He’d keep her safe from saboteurs and magical mishaps. He’d court her properly, the way she deserved.