Page 12 of Hex and the Kitty

Together they cleaned up the dough mess, working in comfortable silence. Molly prepared her special chamomile-lavender tea, trying to ignore how her skin tingled whenever Warrick moved near her. The rolling pin mysteriously appeared wherever he worked, causing them both to chuckle each time.

Once the shop looked presentable again, Molly wanted a few more minutes with this man so she led Warrick to a small table in the corner. She poured tea into two mismatched cups adorned with hand-painted wildflowers.

“Not everyone would charge into battle with living bread dough,” she said, settling across from him. “Most would run the other way.”

“Most people haven’t faced what I have in three centuries,” he replied, his golden eyes meeting hers over the rim of his cup. “Dough monsters rank low on the danger scale.”

“Still. Thank you.” Molly wrapped her hands around her cup, absorbing its warmth to steady herself. Sitting this close, she could detect his scent—cedar and sandalwood with something wild underneath.

“This will be town gossip by noon,” she sighed. “More ammunition for the matchmakers.”

“The matchmakers?” His brow furrowed slightly.

“Surely you’ve noticed? Elsie directing you to ‘Molly’s spot’ at the café? Daisy’s truth potion ‘accident’?” Molly rolled her eyes. “The entire town seems determined to push us together.”

Warrick’s eyebrows rose. “I thought I was imagining things.”

“Definitely not. Celeste texts me your coffee schedule. Daisy discusses your workout routine. Even my sister gave me a knowing look when I mentioned the frosting incident.” Molly shook her head. “It’s exhausting.”

“But well-intentioned,” Warrick offered.

“True. They won’t stop until they’ve married us off with magical tiger cubs, though.”

The words escaped before she could catch them. Heat blazed across her cheeks as she realized the implication.

Warrick choked slightly on his tea but recovered with impressive speed. His eyes glinted with unexpected mischief.

“Tiger cubs take a significant commitment,” he said, his tone deceptively casual. “Perhaps we should start with dinner?”

ELEVEN

Molly’s mouth fell open. Had Warrick Shaw—stern, serious, centuries-old Warrick Shaw—just flirted with her?

“I... that’s not what I... I didn’t mean...” she stammered.

He grinned. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Molly’s heart performed an acrobatic sequence in her chest. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure.

“What if,” she began carefully, “we give them what they want?”

“Tiger cubs?” His eyebrow arched, teasing her.

“No!” Molly exclaimed, her blush deepening. “I meant, what if we pretend to date? If they think their plan worked, they’d stop the meddling. We could hang out occasionally, be seen together, then ‘break up’ amicably in a few weeks.”

Warrick considered her suggestion, his expression unreadable. “You want to fake a relationship?”

“When you put it that way, it sounds ridiculous,” Molly backpedaled. “Forget I suggested it.”

“I didn’t say no,” Warrick replied, his voice dropping to a register that vibrated through her bones. “But if we’re going to do this, I want to do it properly.”

Molly blinked. “Properly?”

“Yes.” Warrick set down his cup with deliberate precision. “If we’re pretending to date, I want actual dates. Real ones.”

Something in his tone made her pulse trip over itself. “You want to really date... while pretending to date?”

“I’m new to town,” he explained, his golden gaze holding hers. “I want to fit in, get to know people. You’re respected here, connected. It makes sense.”

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