Page 28 of Hex and the Kitty

“What do you want from me?” Warrick challenged, though he knew his expression had softened.

“An invitation to the wedding would be nice,” Reed joked.

“I’m not?—“

“Pushing her, we know,” Bram finished for him. “But maybe ask her to the Fireman’s Ball? Officially? That would at least give the witches something concrete to focus on.”

Warrick considered this. He’d already mentioned the ball to Molly last night, suggesting she might help with planning. Taking her as his formal date would be a natural next step.

“I was planning to ask her,” he admitted.

“Thank the stars,” Kade said, raising his hands in mock praise. “Finally, a crumb for the gossip mill. Maybe now Celeste will stop leaving bridal magazines around the house.”

“I’d focus on keeping Molly smiling if I were you,” Reed advised more seriously. “These women notice everything. Ellie says she hasn’t seen Molly this happy in years.”

The thought of Molly’s happiness—that he might be the cause of it—filled Warrick with a fierce, protective joy. His tiger rumbled in satisfaction. Yes, that was exactly what he wanted—to be the reason for her smile, her laughter. To protect that happiness with everything he had.

“I have no intention of doing anything else,” Warrick said, his voice low and certain.

The men exchanged knowing glances.

“And they say romance is dead,” Bram quipped.

Roarke, who had been quietly observing, finally spoke up. “You know, they’re not wrong about the matchmaking. Daisy’s been collecting hair from both of you for some kind of compatibility spell.”

Warrick’s eyebrows shot up. “She’s been what?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been confiscating it,” Roarke assured him. “But they’re determined.”

“Terrifyingly so,” Kade agreed.

Reed groaned. “We’ve averted so many close calls.”

As they launched into tales of the witches’ matchmaking mishaps, Warrick found himself actually enjoying the camaraderie. In his long life, he’d rarely allowed himself to form close bonds, knowing he would eventually move on, outliving human friends and leaving communities behind before his agelessness raised questions.

But here in Whispering Pines, surrounded by other long-lived supernaturals who understood his nature, something was different. He was putting down roots, forming connections that could last.

And at the center of it all was Molly—warm, vibrant Molly with her magical chaos and infectious laugh.

“Earth to Warrick,” Reed waved a hand in front of his face. “Lost you there for a minute. Thinking about a certain baker?”

“Just considering my options for the ball,” Warrick replied smoothly.

“Sure you were,” Bram snorted. “That dopey smile was definitely about event planning.”

Warrick didn’t bother denying it this time. “I should get back to the station. Some of us have actual work to do.”

“Run along then,” Kade said, standing to clear their mugs. “But fair warning—if you don’t make some official move soon, the witches are planning an intervention at the Full Moon Festival next week.”

“What kind of intervention?” Warrick asked, suspicious.

The four men exchanged glances laden with meaning.

“Let’s just say it involves enchanted pastries, mood lighting, and a ‘convenient’ power outage at the bakery,” Reed finally said. “Ellie’s been practicing her atmospheric spells.”

“Consider yourself warned,” Roarke added solemnly. “These women are ruthless when they set their minds to something.”

Warrick stood, leaving payment for his coffee on the table. “I appreciate the heads-up.”

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