Page 57 of Hex and the Kitty (Whispering Pines #9)

FIFTY-SEVEN

T he truck’s engine hummed beneath them as Warrick navigated the winding streets of Whispering Pines. Beside him, Molly fidgeted with the tiger’s eye bracelet at her wrist, her fingers tracing the ancient stones. Streetlights caught in her vibrant red curls, creating a halo effect against the emerald green of her dress.

“Nervous?” Warrick asked, stealing a glance at her profile.

“Do witches fly on brooms?” She laughed, the sound warming him more than any fire ever could. “This is our first official event as... whatever we are.”

“Together,” he supplied, reaching across to take her hand. “That’s what we are.”

His thumb found her pulse point, measuring the rapid flutter beneath her skin. Even after three centuries of existence, Warrick marveled at how such a simple connection—skin to skin—could anchor him so completely to the present.

The community center loomed ahead, transformed from its usual mundane appearance into something magical. Hundreds of twinkling lights mimicked constellations against the darkening sky, and crystal chimes hung from tree branches, creating ethereal music when the breeze caught them.

“You can still taste remnants of magic in the air,” Molly commented, inhaling deeply. “Celeste’s handiwork, mostly, with touches of Daisy and Sera.”

Warrick parked, noting the packed lot filled with nearly every vehicle in Whispering Pines. The entire town had turned out for the Fireman’s Ball. He stepped out and circled to Molly’s door, offering his hand.

She emerged in a rustle of emerald fabric, the dress clinging to curves that made his tiger stir with appreciation. Moonlight bathed her features, illuminating the gold flecks in her green eyes and the delicate blush warming her cheeks.

“You’re staring,” she whispered.

“Can you blame me?” He kept her hand in his, using it to draw her close. “The dress suits you perfectly.”

“Because you handpicked it. Still can’t believe you noticed me looking at it weeks ago.” Her free hand smoothed over the bodice. “I never thought I’d wear something so?—“

“Perfect,” he finished, bringing her knuckles to his lips. “You’re perfect.”

Music drifted from the building, a string quartet playing something classical that stirred memories of Vienna ballrooms and satin gloves. Warrick checked his phone—no emergency alerts from the station—before tucking it away.

“All clear for tonight?” Molly asked, catching the gesture.

“Tonight belongs to us.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. “No distractions.”

They approached the entrance where a banner proclaimed “41st Annual Fireman’s Ball” in elegant script. Below it stood Elsie Blackwood in a midnight blue gown that rustled as she spotted them and clapped her hands together.

“Finally!” She beamed, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Our guests of honor!”

“We’re hardly late,” Warrick countered, checking his watch. “Five minutes, at most.”

“Oh, honey.” Elsie patted his cheek like he was a cub rather than a centuries-old shifter. “I’m not talking about your punctuality. I’m talking about this .” She gestured between them. “It’s about time you two stopped dancing around each other and started dancing with each other.”

Molly’s laughter bubbled up beside him. “Was it really that obvious?”

“To everyone except you two, apparently,” Elsie confirmed, ushering them toward the doors. “Now, go make your grand entrance. Everyone’s been waiting to see you together officially.”