Page 1 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

Chapter 1 - Sonya

I’ve learned there’s a special kind of torture reserved for waiting tables in a packed bar on a Friday night. It’s the kind where everyone seems to think they’re your boss, yelling orders over the music and treating you like you’re invisible unless their drink is late.

I’m not bitter, not really. Just exhausted.

“Hey, sweetie, where’s my beer?” Some guy at a table to my left waves a half-empty bottle in my direction like I’m a genie who can just conjure up another one with a snap of my fingers. I force a smile and bite back the urge to tell him where he can shove his beer.

“Coming right up,” I tell him, even though it’ll be at least five more minutes because every other person in this place has the same idea.

I weave through the crowd, balancing my tray precariously on one hand as I dodge elbows and shuffling feet. The lights are low, but not in that flattering, hide-your-flaws kind of way. More like the murky, can’t-see-where-you’re-going-so-good-luck kind. Green Lake isn’t Stardust Hollow, but some nights, it feels like a mirror image—small-town vibes, everyone in your business, full of shifters, and the constant, unmistakable feeling that you’re always on display. Only here, I’m not the main attraction. I’m just passing through, waiting for my moment to make a clean break and disappear.

Betsy’s behind the bar, wiping down glasses with a rag that’s probably older than I am. She glances up as I walk up, lifting an eyebrow in that knowing way she has. She doesn’t ask how I’m doing anymore. Something tells me she’s seen enough people running from something to know it without words.Instead, she just slides a fresh beer across the counter, her version of sympathy.

“Busy night,” she comments. It’s not quite a question, more of an observation.

“Yeah,” I reply, taking the bottle and adding it to my tray. “They’re thirsty tonight.”

Betsy nods, but she’s already moved on, scanning the room like a hawk. She’s probably making a mental list of who’s going to cause trouble first. I wish I had her knack for spotting a disaster before it happens. Might’ve saved me from a lot of grief back in Stardust Hollow. But here I am, miles away and still feeling like I’m one step behind.

I make my rounds, dropping off drinks and picking up tips that barely cover the bills stacking up back at my little rental. It’s not much, but it’s something, and for now, something is enough. Jane keeps saying I could stay with her and Reiner, but the last thing I want is to crash their newly mated bliss with my baggage. Plus, Jane doesn’t need to hear the details of why I’m really here, hiding out until my ex’s wedding blows over and I can go back without feeling like everyone’s eyes are on me.

A laugh bursts out from a table near the back, a loud, genuine sound that cuts through the noise. I glance over to see a group of friends, probably locals, celebrating something or each other. Birthdays, engagements, who knows? For a second, I envy them—their carefree smiles, the easy way they fit into this town without even trying. I can’t remember the last time I felt like that, like I belonged somewhere without having to try so hard.

“Hey, Sonya!” one of the regulars calls out from his spot at the bar, waving me over. It’s Tom, a grizzled old-timer who’s been coming here longer than anyone can remember. He’sharmless enough, always polite, and tips decently even when he’s had a few too many.

“What can I get you, Tom?” I ask, already reaching for my notepad out of habit.

Tom gives me a tired smile, the kind that says he’s seen too much and isn’t impressed by any of it. “Just another round, if you don’t mind. Busy night, huh?”

“You’re telling me,” I agree, scribbling down his order, though I could do it in my sleep by now. “How’s your night going?”

“Better now that you’re here,” Tom says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. It’s a line, but not one that sets my teeth on edge. He’s just being friendly, and in a place like this, full of drunks and usually plenty of hotheads, that’s a rare enough thing.

I nod and head back to the bar, dodging a couple of women who are dancing like they’re in a club instead of a dive where the most sophisticated drink on offer is a whiskey sour. My feet are killing me, and I’ve got at least another couple of hours before I can even think about sitting down, but I push through. It’s just one night, and I’ve survived worse.

By the time I get Tom his drink, the bar’s starting to thin out. The early crowd is trickling home while the die-hards settle in for the long haul. I take a moment to catch my breath, leaning against the bar as Betsy shoves a bowl of pretzels in front of me.

“Eat,” she instructs me, though not unkindly. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

I laugh, a short, breathless sound that’s more from habit than humor. “Thanks, Betsy. You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of a smile there, too. “Just looking out for you, hon. This place will eat you alive if you let it.”

I nod, munching on a pretzel and watching the room. She’s right, of course. Green Lake isn’t a place you stay if you’re looking for easy answers or a soft landing. But for now, it’s better than what I left behind. And it’ll be enough to keep me going until I figure out where I’m supposed to be.

The night drags on, and just when I think I might catch a break, the door swings open, and a new wave of energy hits the bar. I glance up, and immediately wish I hadn’t. Jack Thomas strolls in like he owns the place. His swagger is almost as loud as the laughter that follows him.

Great. Just what I needed—Green Lake’s very own playboy, gracing us with his presence.

Jack’s got that effortless charm, the kind that’s all smiles and no substance. He’s the type who’s never met a mirror he didn’t like, and from the way he’s strutting across the room, you’d think he was walking a red carpet instead of into a bar with a sticky floor.

He’s Reiner’s cousin, or so I’ve been told, and apparently the black sheep of whatever shifter family they’ve got going on. They do look alike, if you squint. The same dark hair, the same cocky smile, though Jack’s hair has some lighter brown highlights. And his eyes are a honey-brown instead of Reiner’s deep, rich color.

I don’t want to stare, but it’s impossible not to. Jack’s like a train wreck, the kind you can’t look away from even though you know you should. A really good-looking train wreck, with a body that could belong to a marble statue. He’s broad-shouldered andlean, and everything about him screams, “I’m up for a good time.”

He catches me looking and winks. Great. That’s the last thing I need. Jack Thomas is trouble, and I don’t have the time or the patience for his kind of games. Jane warned me about him once, saying something about how he’s fun but not to be taken seriously. Honestly, I don’t have the time or the energy for any of it. Besides, at thirty, he’s a bit too old to be pulling that shit.

Jack’s got a small entourage with him, a mix of familiar faces and one or two I haven’t seen before. But it’s the loud one at the back that catches my attention—a guy with an obnoxious laugh and a smirk that’s already making my eyes roll on their own. Tanner, if I remember right. One of those types who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and doesn’t have the manners to back it up.

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