Page 17 of The Wolf's Plus-Size Nanny

I nod, flipping through the contents of the fridge. “Cool. Maybe we’ll get to eat in peace tonight. What a nice change of pace that would be, huh?”

I get to work, pulling out some chicken and vegetables, while Sonya continues unpacking, though she’s stealing glancesmy way like she’s expecting me to set the kitchen on fire. I start chopping, the rhythmic thunk of the knife against the cutting board filling the room. It’s oddly comforting, the normalcy of it, and I focus on the task at hand, grateful for the distraction.

Sonya finally settles onto a stool at the counter, watching me like she’s waiting for me to chop a finger off. “So, you and Reiner have known each other a long time, huh? You seem pretty close.”

“Since we were kids,” I reply, tossing some chopped peppers into the pan. “We’ve been through a lot together. He’s like a brother, you know? Even when he’s being a pain in my ass.”

Sonya laughs softly, and the sound eases the lingering awkwardness between us. “Jane’s always going on about how you two are inseparable. Jane and I are like that, too. It’s nice having that kind of bond.”

“Yeah, it is,” I agree, stirring the pan as the vegetables sizzle. “Reiner’s the steady one. Always has been. He’s the guy who’ll call me out when I’m being an idiot, which is… often. As you might know.” I shoot her a sideways glance, and she grins.

“Sounds familiar. Jane’s like that for me. She’s more like a sister than a friend. She’s always been there, even when I don’t ask for it. Especially when I don’t ask for it.”

I nod, adding some seasoning to the chicken. “I get that. Reiner’s the same way. He’s got this way of making me think about stuff I’d rather ignore.”

“Like Fiona?” Sonya asks gently. There’s no judgment in her voice, just curiosity.

“I have no interest in ignoring Fiona.” I sigh, flipping the chicken over. “I’m still figuring it out. Being a dad, it’s… it’s a lot. But I want to get it right, you know?”

Sonya’s quiet for a moment, then she nods. “I can tell. You’re trying, Jack. That’s more than a lot of people would do in your position.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, surprised by how much her words mean. “That means a lot coming from you.”

She shrugs, but I can see the warmth in her eyes. “You’re not as clueless as you think. And Fiona’s lucky to have you.”

We settle into a comfortable rhythm, and the conversation flows easier than I expected. It’s like we’ve crossed some invisible line, moving from awkward roommates to something more like friends.

When dinner’s finally ready, I set the plates on the table, and Sonya grabs us a couple of glasses of water. We eat in a companionable silence at first, but the conversation soon picks up again, drifting from Fiona, to our pasts, to stories of growing up with Reiner and Jane.

By the time we’re finished, what happened earlier feels like a distant memory. Sonya offers to do the dishes, and I lean back in my chair, watching her. As she stands with her back to me scrubbing at a pan, my eyes wander, tracing the curve of her back, the way her hair falls loose around her shoulders.

It’s strange, this pull I feel toward her. I’ve always been the guy who keeps things light, who doesn’t get too caught up in one person. But with Sonya, it’s different. She’s strong and stubborn, but there’s this softness to her, too. This vulnerability she tries to hide. And it’s driving me crazy.

As she rinses the last dish, I find myself leaning forward, the image of sliding up behind her flashing through my mind. It would be so easy to step up, to press against her and let my hands find their way to her hips. To whisper something in her ear that would make her blush the way she did earlier.

I could kiss her. Right here, right now. I could turn her around, press her back against the counter, and see if those lips are as soft as they look. She would taste sweet, and I would kiss her until her eyes went wide and she gasped. Or I could just bend her over the sink, pull her shorts down, and have her right here in the kitchen.

My mouth is watering at just the thought of burying my face between her thighs. I could take my time, tease her until she was shaking, then slide my cock deep inside her. I know exactly how she would feel, warm and tight, and it would be so good.

Jesus.

What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s ridiculous, really. She’s not my type. I go for easy, uncomplicated fun—blondes, usually. Flirty, bubbly types who like to laugh at my jokes and don’t care that I can’t remember their last names the next morning.

Sonya is the opposite of all that. She’s blunt and bossy, a constant thorn in my side who tells me exactly what she thinks without sugarcoating a damn thing. And yet, I can’t stop picturing what it would be like to close the distance between us, to press my hands to the curve of her waist and feel the warmth of her skin under my fingertips.

I shake my head, trying to dislodge the thought. She’s off-limits. We’ve got a good thing going here—a shaky partnership that works, mostly because we both know where the boundariesare. But the more time I spend around her, the harder it is to keep those lines clear in my mind.

She’s not even my type, I remind myself again, trying to convince the voice in my head that’s already planning out the next ten moves. Sonya’s too serious, too determined, and yet there’s something undeniably attractive about that fire in her eyes when she’s mad. The way she stands up to me like she’s got nothing to lose.

I let out a slow breath, forcing myself to look away before I do something stupid. Sonya’s wiping down the counter now, and I can’t help but notice how the shirt she’s wearing clings to her breasts like a second skin. It’s maddening how much I’m noticing every little detail about her all of a sudden, like my brain’s on a loop I can’t shut off.

Maybe it’s because I’m not used to having someone around like this, someone who challenges me and keeps me on my toes. Or maybe it’s just because she’s right there, within arm’s reach, and all I’d have to do is—

The sound of Fiona’s cry cuts through the air, snapping me back to reality like a cold splash of water. Sonya glances over her shoulder, but I’m already on my feet, grateful for the interruption. “I’ve got her,” I say quickly, heading down the hall before Sonya can even offer to help.

As I step into my room, Fiona’s cries grow louder, and I scoop her up from the crib, cradling her against my chest. Her little face is scrunched up, and her tiny fists flail as she lets out a wail that could probably shatter glass. I bounce her gently, murmuring soft reassurances that feel clumsy and inadequate, but it’s all I’ve got in the moment.

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