Page 26 of Hex and the Kitty

Molly.

Even just thinking her name sent a wave of warmth through his chest. Images from last night flickered through his mind—her laughter as kitchen utensils danced around them, the soft flush on her cheeks when their hands touched, the way her eyes sparkled in the candlelight. The evening had been perfect despite the mysterious tripping of her ward crystals. His tiger purred beneath his skin, content yet hungry for more of her presence.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” a deep voice called from the corner booth.

Warrick suppressed a groan as he spotted them—Kade behind the counter, and Reed Mallory, Bram Hartley, and Roarke Easton occupying the largest booth in the café. So much for a quick coffee run.

Kade grinned, already reaching for a mug. “Black Sumatran, two shots of espresso?”

“Make it three,” Warrick replied, approaching the counter. “Long night.”

Reed’s eyebrows shot up. “That so? Must have been some date.”

Warrick fixed the sheriff with a steady gaze, keeping his expression neutral despite the knowing looks exchanged among the men. “I was reviewing safety protocols for the station until two.”

“After your date,” Bram clarified, his bear shifter frame taking up nearly half of the booth.

“Join us,” Reed patted the empty space beside him. “Unless you have somewhere pressing to be?”

The strategic trap had been laid, and Warrick knew when to recognize a losing battle. These men weren’t just fellow supernaturals—they were becoming friends, as unexpected as that was after centuries of keeping others at arm’s length.

“Ten minutes,” he conceded, sliding into the booth across from Reed and Roarke.

Kade placed Warrick’s coffee before him, then pulled up a chair at the end of the table. “So. One of our resident baker witches. She makes amazing honey buns and cinnamon rolls.”

“Molly,” Warrick corrected, an edge entering his voice before he could stop it.

Four identical grins met his slip. Roarke, normally the most serious of the group, leaned forward with uncharacteristic mischief in his eyes.

“Oh, we’re well aware of her name. It’s practically all our women talk about these days. ‘Molly and the Fire Chief’ this, ‘Molly and Warrick’ that. Daisy’s started a betting pool on when you’ll propose.”

Warrick nearly choked on his coffee. “Propose? We’ve had one official date.”

“One official date after days of intense chemistry,” Reed countered. “Don’t think we haven’t noticed you finding excuses to stop by the bakery. Daily emergency muffin runs?”

“Fire safety inspections that take two hours?” Bram added.

“Your tiger practically purrs every time she walks into a room,” Kade said, lowering his voice. “We can sense it, you know. Fellow shifters and all that.”

Warrick’s jaw tightened, uncomfortable with how transparent he apparently was to these men. His tiger, usually so guarded around others, had indeed been making its satisfaction known whenever Molly was near—rumbling contentedly, pushing him to stay closer, lingering longer.

“My relationship with Molly is not a topic for public discussion,” he said, his tone deliberately even.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” Reed replied, lifting his coffee mug in a mock toast. “The minute Celeste, Ellie, Tabitha, and Daisy decided you two were perfect for each other, your relationship became the town’s favorite entertainment.”

“Congratulations,” Kade added dryly. “You’re officially Whispering Pines’ most interesting bachelor. Which brings us to our actual agenda.”

“Agenda?” Warrick’s eyes narrowed.

Bram leaned forward, his massive forearms resting on the table. “We need you to do something—anything—to take the heat off the rest of us. Since you and Molly became the main attraction, our women have been so invested in your love life that they’ve neglected ours.”

“Ellie used to greet me with a kiss when I got home,” Reed lamented, though his eyes twinkled with humor. “Now it’s ‘Did you see Warrick today? Did he mention Molly? Do you think he’ll ask her to the Fireman’s Ball?’”

“Celeste has a whole conspiracy board,” Kade added. “She and Luna map out your ‘accidental’ meetings like they’re planning a military campaign.”

“Daisy’s no better,” Roarke said, shaking his head. “She’s created special ‘matchmaking tea’ she wants to spike your coffee with. I’ve had to talk her down twice.”

“And Tabitha’s started knitting baby booties,” Bram finished. “Says she ‘just has a feeling.’”

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