Page 54 of Hex and the Kitty

“I’ll pick you up at six.” He turned to leave, then paused. “Should I be worried about what treats you’ll bring? Nothing that reveals embarrassing secrets, I hope.”

Molly grinned mischievously. “Now there’s an idea. Truth-telling tiramisu? Confession cannoli?”

“Molly...” His warning tone held no real threat.

“Don’t worry, Fire Chief. I’ll be on my best behavior.” She reached beneath the counter, producing a paper bag. “Here, take this for the road. Fresh cinnamon roll and coffee, black.”

Surprise flickered across his face. “How did you know that’s my usual breakfast?”

“I pay attention,” she shrugged, trying to appear casual while her insides danced with delight at having pleased him. “Besides, David mentioned you steal his coffee every morning at the station because you claim it’s stronger than the official pot.”

Warrick accepted the bag, his fingers deliberately brushing against hers. The contact sent a jolt of awareness through her, magic responding with a brief shimmer that illuminated the air between them.

“Thank you,” he said, voice dropping to that deep register that made her toes curl. “For the breakfast. And for agreeing to meet my family.”

“Thank you for wanting me to meet them,” she replied softly.

His eyes held hers for one more heated moment before he turned and left, the bell jingling in his wake.

Molly released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Meeting Warrick’s family. His centuries-old, royal tiger shifter family. Her cinnamon rolls better be up to the task.

Six o’clock arrivedwith alarming speed. Molly stood before her bedroom mirror, scrutinizing her appearance for the dozenth time. She’d settled on an blue wrap dress that complemented both her eyes and her curves, with comfortable yet elegant low heels. Her red curls cascaded freely down her back—Warrick once mentioned he liked seeing her hair unbound.

A box of carefully crafted pastries waited by the door—miniature tiger lily petit fours with orange blossom cream centers. Hours of work had gone into them, each one infused with a tiny spark of joy magic. Not enough to manipulate emotions, just enough to enhance the pleasure of a good dessert shared in good company.

The doorbell rang precisely at six. Molly’s heart leaped into her throat as she opened the door.

Warrick stood on her threshold, breathtaking in dark slacks and a button-down shirt the color of stormy skies. His hair was neatly combed, accentuating the distinguished silver at his temples. But what stole her breath was his expression when he saw her—golden eyes widening, sweeping from her hair to her dress to her shoes with such naked appreciation that her magic responded unbidden, causing the nearby plants to bloom despite the evening hour.

Without a word, he stepped forward, strong arms encircling her waist and drawing her against his chest. Before she could process what was happening, his mouth claimed hers with gentle intensity. His lips moved against hers, warm and firm and perfect, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of her head. Molly melted into him, fingers clutching his shoulders for support as her knees threatened to buckle beneath the onslaught of sensation.

When they finally pulled back, Warrick rested his forehead against hers.

“I’ve been wanting to do that,” he murmured, “all day.”

“You could have done it earlier,” she whispered back, delighting in the rumble of laughter that vibrated through his chest.

He drew back slightly, eyes tracing over her features with reverence. “You look beautiful, Molly. That color...” His thumb brushed her cheek. “It makes your eyes look like jewels.”

Her heart swelled with an emotion too big for her chest, too powerful to name yet. She’d dated before, enjoyed flirtations and romances, but nothing had prepared her for this overwhelming tide that rose within her whenever Warrick looked at her this way—as though she were precious, rare, essential.

“You clean up pretty well yourself, Fire Chief,” she managed, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his shirt just for the excuse to touch him.

His smile—that rare, full smile that transformed his serious features—stole her breath anew. “Ready to face the Shaw family?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” She grabbed the pastry box. “Lead the way, tiger.”

FORTY-TWO

The Shaw family estate sat on the outskirts of Whispering Pines, a sprawling property surrounded by old-growth forest. The house itself blended understated elegance with mountain lodge comfort—stone and timber construction with large windows overlooking gardens and woods beyond.

As Warrick guided her up the walkway, his hand warm against her lower back, Molly fought a sudden attack of nerves. These people had lived for centuries, witnessed history firsthand, accumulated wealth and knowledge beyond her imagination. What could they possibly think of a small-town witch baker?

“They’ll love you,” Warrick murmured, accurately reading her tension. “Just be yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” she whispered back. “You’re not meeting your maybe-boyfriend’s ancient royal family for the first time.”

His step faltered. “Maybe-boyfriend?”

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