Page 63 of Hex and the Kitty

He paused at the office window, gazing toward Main Street where The Bewitched Bakery stood. Three centuries of existence had taught him patience, caution, detachment. Yet within months, one curly-haired witch with eyes like spring leaves had demolished those carefully constructed walls.

The most surprising part? He didn’t mind their absence.

The Whispering Pines Community Center’sgrand hall opened before him, dust motes dancing in light that streamed through tall windows. Wooden rafters arched overhead, worn smooth by decades of celebrations, meetings, and magical gatherings.

“There you are!”

Molly crossed the room toward him, clipboard in hand, her floral skirt swirling around her calves. The scent reached him first—vanilla, cinnamon, and something uniquely Molly that his tiger recognized instantly. Her copper curls caught sunlight as she moved, creating a momentary halo effect that seemed appropriately magical.

“Sorry, I’m late.” He accepted the quick kiss she pressed to his cheek. “Incident reports.”

“Any breakthroughs?” Her brow furrowed with concern.

“Not yet. But Reed has promising leads.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Today is about the ball, not sabotage.”

Her expression brightened as she tugged him toward the center of the hall. “I’ve been brainstorming themes. What do you think about ‘Starry Nights’?”

“Tell me more.”

“Constellation projections on the ceiling.” She gestured upward, her face animated with enthusiasm. “Tiny, enchanted lights floating in patterns based on the protective wards we installed at the station. Combining beauty with meaning.”

Warrick studied the space, envisioning it transformed. The practical side of him calculated capacity, exit routes, security measures. Yet he also attempted to see it through her eyes—a celebration that would unite the community instead of dividing it with fear.

“You don’t like it,” she said, misinterpreting his silence.

“No—I do.” He turned to her, surprised by how much he meant it. “It’s perfect. Functional security disguised as beauty.”

“Exactly!” Her smile returned full force. “The tables would line the perimeter, dance floor center, refreshment station along the west wall...”

“Keep the eastern doors clear for?—“

“Emergency access.” She nodded. “Already factored that in.”

Warrick raised an eyebrow, impressed not for the first time by her attention to practical details despite her dreamer’s heart. “You’d make a remarkable tactical planner.”

“High praise from someone who’s witnessed three centuries of military strategy.” Her eyes sparkled with gentle teasing. “I’ll add it to my resume between ‘cupcake psychic’ and ‘dough monster wrangler.’”

Her easy reference to his inhuman nature—no fear, no hesitation—struck him anew. The acceptance she offered extended to every part of him, even those that had driven others away throughout his long existence.

They circled the room together, discussing capacity requirements and decoration plans. He appreciated how naturally their conversation flowed between professional considerations and personal connection. She didn’t compartmentalize her life the way he always had. Instead, her warmth and magic infused everything she touched.

“Will your family attend?” She paused near the stage, turning to face him. “I’d love to see them again.”

The question caught him off guard. His family rarely participated in community events, preferring their privacy. Yet the idea of his sisters hanging out with Molly stirred something warm in his chest. They’d been asking to see her again.

“I haven’t invited them yet.” He studied her hopeful expression. “But yes, I’d like them to come. Though I should warn you—Zara and Zella will interrogate you mercilessly. After you came over for dinner, they’ve been questioning me nonstop about you.”

“I can handle it.” Her confidence made him smile. “I survived Mari grilling me about you yesterday.”

Curiosity piqued, he tilted his head. “What exactly did you tell her?”

A blush darkened her cheeks. “That’s between sisters.”

The flush spreading across her face captivated him. Without conscious thought, his hand rose to brush her warm cheek, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The small gesture felt natural now, though once he would have considered such casual contact an unnecessary vulnerability.

He leaned down, pressing his lips gently to hers. She responded immediately, her body softening against his as her hands rested lightly on his chest. The kiss remained tender, a quiet affirmation rather than a passionate claim.

“I thought we were supposed to be planning a ball,” she murmured against his mouth, though she made no move to step away.

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