Page 13 of Hex and the Kitty

“Of course,” Molly said, a tiny flicker of disappointment igniting in her chest. He wanted to network, not romance her. “Practical.”

“And,” he continued, his voice softening, “I find your company... enjoyable.”

The flutter in Molly’s stomach intensified. Maybe not so practical after all.

“All right,” she agreed, trying to sound casual despite her racing heart. “Real dates. For pretend dating.”

Warrick’s smile—that rare, transformative expression—returned. “Good. I’ll plan our first evening out.”

A movement outside caught Molly’s attention. Gus Niles stood on the sidewalk, watching them through the glass. His expression darkened when Warrick laughed at something Molly said, his sandy-brown hair ruffling in the morning breeze.

A chill prickled along her spine despite the warm tea in her hands. Something about Gus triggered her witch senses—a dissonant energy signature that set her teeth on edge. His gaze fixed on Warrick with unmistakable resentment.

Gus noticed her watching and vanished into the morning crowd.

“Everything all right?” Warrick asked, following her gaze.

“Yes,” Molly said, pushing aside her unease. “Just thought I saw someone.”

Warrick checked his watch and rose reluctantly. “I should get back to the station.”

“Of course,” Molly nodded, walking him to the door. “Thank you again for the rescue.”

“Next time,” he said with a straight face that slowly cracked into a smile, “I expect your rolling pin to help more and flirt less.”

Her laugh bubbled up, bright and surprised. “I’ll have a stern talk with it.”

Standing in the doorway, Warrick hesitated. “I’ll contact you about our first... outing.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Molly replied, surprised by the sincerity in her voice.

As she watched him walk away, her eyes traced the confident set of his shoulders, the easy grace of his movement. How had a disastrous baking experiment led to dating—fake, but with real dates—the most intriguing man she’d met in years?

She returned to her shop, now dough-monster-free but somehow transformed. Her grandmother’s rolling pin waited on the counter, still aimed at the door where Warrick had exited.

“Oh, hush,” Molly told it, fighting a smile. “Don’t you start matchmaking too.”

As she prepared to open for the day, confusion swirled through her thoughts. Warrick Shaw confused her—stern one moment, flirtatious the next. His rare smile made her heart race; his voice sent tingles down her spine. These reactions puzzled her. At forty-two, she’d moved past schoolgirl crushes long ago.

Yet something about him called to her—not just his physical appeal, but glimpses of the man beneath the serious exterior. The way he’d jumped to protect her without hesitation. His unexpected humor. The brief flash of vulnerability when she’d mentioned his smile.

Molly arranged fresh pastries in the display case, her movements automatic while her mind circled back to golden eyes and that rumbling laugh. Whatever his reason for agreeing to their arrangement, she found herself genuinely eager for what came next.

Whether it led to something real or remained a charade, only time would tell.

TWELVE

Molly turned the sign on the bakery door to “Closed,” her fingers lingering on the smooth wooden frame. The setting sun cast long, golden shadows across the cobblestone street outside, painting Whispering Pines in amber hues. Inside the Bewitched Bakery, display cases glowed with soft light, illuminating rows of pastries that hadn’t sold during the day’s business.

Ten minutes until Warrick arrived. Ten minutes to calm her racing heart. Ten minutes to remember this wasn’t real.

“It’s fake dating, not a marriage proposal,” she whispered to her reflection in the polished glass of the display case. But her traitor hands smoothed the emerald-green dress for the fifth time, and her eyes kept darting to the clock.

The memory of his golden tiger eyes made her skin tingle. She’d dreamed of them twice this week—warm amber depths watching her with an intensity that made her forget to breathe.

Stop it. He’s probably just going through the motions to keep the town gossips at bay.

The bakery smelled of cinnamon and chocolate, lingering scents from the day’s baking. Molly lit several candles on the tables, their flames casting dancing shadows across the walls. She paused, candle in hand.

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