Page 53 of Hex and the Kitty

Warrick’s rare, full smile emerged. “I’m counting on it.”

Outside, stars emerged above Whispering Pines like protective sentinels, each one a witness to his silent vow. Whatever threats loomed, whatever sabotage Gus might attempt, Warrick faced the future with newfound resolve. His tiger prowled beneath his skin, eager for the moment when pretense would fall away and he could finally, truly claim the witch who had somehow become the center of his world.

Mate. The word resonated through his bones, rightness singing in his blood. His tiger had known from the beginning. Now the man embraced the truth. Molly Hues—vibrant, compassionate, powerful Molly—had claimed his heart as surely as he longed to claim hers.

FORTY-ONE

The morning sun streamed through the bakery windows, casting golden patterns across Molly’s workstation as she piped delicate rosettes onto a batch of lavender cupcakes. The bell above the door chimed, and her heart performed its now-familiar skip before she even looked up. Only one person triggered that particular rhythm these days.

“Morning,” Warrick’s deep voice carried across the empty bakery. They weren’t set to open for another hour—which meant he’d come specifically to see her.

Molly glanced up, pastry bag poised mid-air. The sight of him—tall frame filling the doorway, morning light catching on the mature strands—stole her breath as effectively as it had the first time. He wore casual clothes today: dark jeans and a gray Henley that stretched across his broad shoulders.

“You’re early,” she said, hoping her voice sounded normal while her pulse raced. “Our dinner date isn’t until tonight.”

Warrick approached the counter, golden eyes scanning her face with an intensity that made her skin tingle. “That’s why I’m here. There’s been a slight change of plans.”

Her stomach dropped. “Oh.” She set down the pastry bag, absently wiping icing from her fingers. “If you need to cancel?—“

“No,” he interrupted quickly, reaching across the counter to capture her hand. His thumb traced circles against her palm, sending shivers up her arm. “Not canceling. My mother called this morning. Apparently, my sisters arrived for a surprise visit, and she’s insisting on a family dinner.” He paused, eyes never leaving hers. “She wants me to bring you.”

Molly blinked, processing his words. “Your mother wants to meet me?”

“The whole family does,” he admitted, a rare hint of nervousness crossing his features. “I’ve mentioned you.”

“You’ve mentioned me to your family?” Heat crawled up her neck. “What exactly have you told them?”

Something shifted in his gaze—a flicker of vulnerability quickly masked by his usual composed expression. “Enough that they’re curious.” His thumb continued its hypnotic circles against her skin. “You don’t have to come if it makes you uncomfortable. We can stick to our original plan.”

But Molly heard what remained unsaid—this mattered to him. Warrick Shaw, the stoic, controlled tiger shifter who rarely revealed his inner thoughts, wanted her to meet his family. His centuries-old, royal lineage family.

“I’d love to come,” she said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. “Though I should probably bring something. What does your mother like? Pastries? Bread? Enchanted desserts that predict the weather?”

Relief softened his features, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You don’t need to bring anything.”

“Clearly you don’t understand how witches operate.” Molly laughed, resuming her piping. “We never arrive empty-handed, especially not to meet the mother of the man we’re—“ She stopped abruptly, catching herself before venturing into undefined territory.

What exactly were they? Their “fake dating” charade had evolved into something neither of them acknowledged directly. Real dates. Lingering touches. That almost-kiss during their moonlit firehouse stroll before the station alarm interrupted them.

Warrick’s eyes darkened as if following her thoughts. “The man you’re...”

Molly busied herself with the cupcakes, heartbeat thundering in her ears. “Dating,” she finished lamely. “Sort of. You know what I mean.”

His low chuckle vibrated through the air between them. “I’m not sure I do.”

When she dared look up, the intensity in his gaze stole her breath. For a heartbeat, she imagined leaning across the counter, closing the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. Her magic stirred in response, causing sugar crystals nearby to dance across the countertop.

“Your magic’s showing,” he murmured, eyes tracking the glittering path of sugar.

“Happens when I’m... distracted.” She forced herself to focus. “What time is dinner? And should I dress formally? Royal tiger shifter families probably have protocols I should know about.”

Warrick shook his head, amusement warming his usually stoic expression. “No protocols. My family may have titles in South Africa, but here they’re remarkably normal.” His eyes swept over her flour-dusted apron and wild curls. “And you look perfect exactly as you are.”

The compliment sent warmth blooming across her chest. She ducked her head, unused to the raw sincerity in his voice. “Sweet-talker. Now I know you want something.”

“Just you,” he replied simply.

Molly’s heart performed another gymnastics routine. “Well, you’ve got me. For dinner with your family, that is.”

---