Page 40 of Hex and the Kitty

She pressed her fingers to her lips, recalling the pressure of his mouth against hers, the restrained power in his touch, the hunger in his eyes. Her plants stirred in response to her emotions, leaves rustling without breeze, several sprouting new buds despite the late hour.

Outside her window, a shadow moved across the street, there and gone quickly. But she knew better. Warrick remained, patrolling the perimeter, ensuring her safety before continuing to the station.

Molly strengthened her apartment wards with a gentle flick of her wrist. The protective magic settled around her home like a cocoon, enhanced rather than diminished by the knowledge that a tiger kept watch outside.

Whatever threat lurked in Whispering Pines, she faced it with unexpected allies—not just her own magic, but Warrick’s strength and their combined abilities. More unsettling yet, her independent heart had begun to find comfort rather than constraint in the connection.

THIRTY

Molly flipped the “Be Back Soon” sign on the Bewitched Bakery’s front door, her fingers tingling with anticipation. Two weeks without Mari—two weeks of strange smoke monsters, midnight ward checks, and a tiger shifter who made her heart race like no man ever had. She needed her sister’s advice, desperately.

The cobblestones warmed beneath autumn sunshine as Molly hurried through Whispering Pines. Shop owners waved from doorways; magical trinkets glimmered in storefront displays. Her mind drifted to Warrick during their moonlit stakeout—the solid weight of his arm around her shoulders, the heat radiating from his body, his face inches from hers. The memory of his golden eyes darkening with desire before that cursed alarm interrupted them sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

Mari’s cottage appeared around the corner, its garden bursting with protective herbs and vibrant chrysanthemums. Before Molly’s knuckles touched the door, it swung open.

“Three minutes late and your cheeks are flushed,” Mari announced, pulling her into a hug. “Which means you’re thinking about someone tall, golden-eyed, and brooding.”

Molly breathed in her sister’s familiar scent of vanilla and cloves. “Am I that transparent?”

“Only to someone who’s known you since you were creating floating cookie dough in Mom’s kitchen.” Mari steered her inside. “Come in before those pastries get cold.”

The cottage radiated comfort—pastel florals, cream walls, and honeymoon photos showcasing Mari and Arden on tropical beaches. Love permeated the space, palpable as any spell.

“These are stunning,” Molly said, picking up a photo of the newlyweds silhouetted against a sunset. Mari’s hair blew wild in the ocean breeze while Arden gazed at her with undisguised adoration. Something twisted in Molly’s chest—not jealousy, but longing. Could someone ever look at her that way? Could Warrick?

“The photographer caught Arden mid-growl in half the shots,” Mari laughed, setting a steaming quiche on the table alongside a garden salad. “Sit. Eat. Then spill everything about this fire chief who’s got my sister casting accidental light shows.”

“News travels fast,” Molly groaned, sliding into a chair.

“Small town, big gossip. Celeste told Daisy who mentioned to Roarke who commented to Arden during their patrol shift.” Mari poured herbal tea into delicate cups. “But first, I want to share something.”

Mari’s hand drifted to her stomach, her expression softening into something new—a radiance that transcended even newlywed glow.

Molly’s fork clattered against her plate. “Mari! Are you?—“

Her sister nodded, eyes shimmering. “Eight weeks.”

Molly launched from her chair, nearly upending the teacups as she rushed to embrace Mari. Their laughter mingled with happy tears, turning to giggles when Mari whispered that Arden had taken to growling protectively at strangers who came too close to her.

“He’s already calling the baby ‘pup’ even though we don’t know if wolf shifter genes will dominate,” Mari said, wiping her eyes. “I never imagined this life for myself, Molls. Not after Victor.”

Molly squeezed her sister’s hand. “You deserve every bit of this happiness.”

“So do you.” Mari’s gaze turned knowing. “Now tell me about Warrick. And don’t leave out a single smoldering glance.”

Heat crept up Molly’s neck. She stabbed a piece of quiche with her fork. “It started as this ridiculous fake dating scheme to stop everyone’s meddling, but now...”

“Now you’re wondering if his lips taste as good as they look?”

“Mari!” Molly sputtered, nearly choking on her tea. But her protest lacked conviction. “It’s more than physical. When he looks at me—really looks at me—it’s like he sees past all the chaos and sparkle to something... essential. No one’s ever made me feel so simultaneously terrified and safe.”

Mari leaned forward. “The best ones do that to us. Arden scared me senseless at first with his intensity. I feared opening my heart after Victor, but Arden never pushed—just stayed steady until I realized his wolfishness complemented my magic.”

“That’s it exactly! Warrick’s so different from me. He’s structured where I’m spontaneous, commanding where I’m bubbly. But when we’re together...” Molly trailed off, remembering how effortlessly they’d worked in tandem during the ward check, his strength complementing her magical intuition. “It’s like we balance each other.”

“Balance creates the strongest magic,” Mari said softly. “And the strongest relationships.”

“But what if I’m reading too much into this? What if for him it’s still just about keeping the matchmakers at bay?”

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