Wolf for Hire

Chapter Two

The drive to Sandy's felt like a slow crawl toward something inevitable. I followed Vanessa's directions down Bees Ferry, past the fire and police departments. My eyes scanned for Palmetto Community Church—if I hit Crosstowne Christian, I'd gone too far. Just as I was starting to worry, the sign came into view, and I made a sharp left at the church, the asphalt gradually turning to a bumpy dirt road.

The sign read: Wolffs Lair Rd.

I kid you not.

Sandy's house sat at the end of the road, a ranch-style home that had seen better days. Not falling apart, but not winning any curb appeal awards either. The place had a cozy, if chaotic, vibe—fenced-in backyard, overgrown garden, and an air of gentle disarray. Still, it was large enough to make me wonder how Sandy had managed it. The Sandy I remembered from college was aloof and hopeless with money. Inherited, maybe? Or perhaps a family deal?

I parked in front of the garage, gravel crunching underfoot as I stepped out. I felt it immediately—the presence of dogs. Lots of them. The barking started as soon as I approached the door, their muzzles pressed against the window, eyes tracking my every move. From the overgrown garden, a black cat crouched under a lantana bush, watching me, unblinking.

I was early—11 a.m. instead of noon. JT wouldn't be here for another hour. I figured getting a head start with the animals might work in my favor. Maybe I could win over the dogs before he showed up so I could look like a natural. Messing with someone else's pets without permission wasn't my best idea, but I wasn't exactly normal anymore. Being a werewolf came with certain... perks.

I scanned the porch for a hidden key and found it in a potted plant, dangling from a bone-shaped keychain. As I straightened up, I heard a rustle beside me.

A black-and-white border collie had appeared out of nowhere. It barked, startling me, and I dropped the keys. The dog darted forward, snatching them from midair before they hit the ground.

"Hey!" I shouted, but the dog took off around the house, tail wagging. I gave chase.

We circled the house and fenced yard once, twice—maybe three times. My legs were burning, and this dog was clearly out for blood—or, more likely, just my dignity. For him, this was a game of keep-away I had no hope of winning.

Panting and sweating, I finally stopped. This dog was fast—too fast. Time for plan B.

I headed back to my car and grabbed a family-sized bag of Cheez-Its. I'd bought them for emergencies like this. All you had to do to get a dog to cooperate was bribe them—with food.

The dog followed at a cautious distance. I opened the bag with an exaggerated rustle, letting the sharp cheddar scent waft out. "How about a trade?" I called, holding up a cracker.

The dog edged closer, ears twitching at the sound of the bag, nose quivering at the scent. I could see the debate in his eyes—half tempted to give in, half still wanting to play.

Once he edged even closer, I played my ace. One of the perks of lycanthropy was the ability to communicate with canines—not with words, but through impressions. Sensory memories and feelings I could embed into my voice. The range wasn't great—ten yards or so in human form—but under the full moon, when I could howl, it could reach over miles. I'd first learned to use it on Miss Ursly's dog, Angel, getting her to stop yapping long enough to formulate a plan of escape. Too bad it hadn't worked on Miss Ursly.

I sent him the thought of the cracker—its crunch, salty taste, cheesy smell. Especially the smell. His tail twitched, his jaw slackened, and I knew I had him.

"Come on," I coaxed, lacing my words with the promise of treats. "Keys for a cracker."

He hesitated, then trotted over, key clutched between his teeth. I tossed the cracker, and he dropped the key to grab it. I pocketed the key and tossed him another cracker for good measure. Positive reinforcement.

"Good boy," I cooed, scratching behind his ears as his tail wagged. I ran my fingers over his collar. "What's your name?" I asked, more out of habit, not expecting an answer. Then I felt it—a faint impression, almost a whisper: Kai.

"Kai?" I repeated, and his tail wagged harder. But when I squinted at the tag, something didn't add up—the name etched into the metal wasn't Kai.

"Coy?" I read aloud. His ears perked up, and I caught a layered thought—Sandy called him Kai, but everyone else called him Coy. Then it clicked: Coy, as in coyote.

Recognition dawned on me. "Wait... I know you." Coy's tail wagged harder as the memory surfaced: Sandy had kept a mischievous puppy in the dorms—a little troublemaker who got into everything.

"Well, Coy," I said, "good to see you again."

I shared a memory with him—of me finding him in the dorm kitchen, head buried in a box of Cheerios. Coy liked that; I could feel the shift. To him, I wasn't just some stranger with snacks anymore—I was an old friend (also with snacks).

One dog down, several more to go.

"How about you introduce me to your friends inside? I've got more crackers."

Coy shot off toward the house, a black-and-white blur, vanishing the moment I lost sight of him.
"Fast little guy," I muttered, heading to the front door.

The dogs that had been pressed against the window earlier had vanished, but I could hear their excited paws scuffling inside. I unlocked the door cautiously, but before I could open it, something heavy slammed into it from the other side.

I stumbled back, missed a step on the porch stairs, and tumbled into the yard. The bag of Cheez-Its flew from my hands, spilling over me as I landed in the grass. The dogs—at least eight of them—pounced on me like kids at a piñata party (and I was the piñata), diving after the crackers.

I struggled to sit up, but they were all over me, their enthusiasm overwhelming. Apparently, my dog-speak worked both ways—I could feel their excitement, and it was driving me crazy.

"Alright, alright!" I growled, pushing them off. The growl came out lower than I intended—more wolf than human. A few dogs yelped, backing away with wide eyes.

Finally, with some space, I stood and brushed Cheez-It crumbs off myself. Eight dogs in sight, but no Coy—that made at least nine. That's a lot of dogs.

I huffed, eyeing the furry faces around me. "Alright, who's responsible for opening the door?"

In unison, they all turned toward the biggest of the bunch—a massive Bernese Mountain Dog, blissfully unaware, sniffing around for more crackers.

"Coy," I called, spotting him poking his head out the door. "What's the big guy's name?"

A single word trickled into my mind: Boden.

"Boden!" I barked. His head shot up, eyes wide, a dopey grin spreading across his face—pleasant, but clueless. Definitely not the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Why'd you force the door open, Boden?" I tried to sound stern but not too harsh. He tilted his head, confused. The thought I picked up was muddled, but the gist was: That's how you open doors.

"No, Boden," I sighed. "You don't open doors that way. Especially when someone's behind it."

Oh... The thought returned, like this was a brand-new concept to him.

I looked closer and realized Boden wasn't dumb, just young. He still had massive paws and that gangly puppy build—though in his case, 'puppy' meant 80 to 90 pounds of clumsy energy. Good God, he's going to be huge.

"Alright," I said, glancing at the pack still watching me. "Let's head inside—it's hot out here."

None of them moved. They just stared, bright-eyed and eager, waiting for... something. As their excitement built, I scrambled for a plan. Then Coy trotted up, dropping a tangled bunch of leashes attached to a hands-free belt at my feet.

I stared down at it. "Oh, no. No, no, no. There's no way I'm strapping myself to you guys." With all of them attached to me like that, it'd be dog-sledding—except I'd be the sled.

Coy's smug amusement slipped into my mind, and I shot him a glare. "This isn't what I meant by 'introductions,' buddy."

Their anticipation vibrated in the air, restless energy building. I felt my control slipping—not just over them, but over myself. Their excitement stirred up my auto-dog, waking it up, and that was dangerous. I'd never been around a pack this big, this close to the full moon. If I got caught in their pack mentality, things would get bad—legally speaking. I needed a distraction—fast. My eyes swept the yard until they landed on the side gate. Aha!

"Alright, fine," I conceded. "We can play, but only inside the fence. Walks are for later, when it cools down." And maybe I'll make JT handle that.

At the mention of play, the dogs perked up and bolted toward the gate. I hurried after them, trying to maintain the momentum, and unlocked the gate with the second key on the dog-bone keychain. As soon as the gate swung open, they surged inside, and Boden—bless his oversized puppy heart—clipped me as he charged past. I tumbled forward, landing hard as the gate slammed shut behind me, the key still dangling outside.

I checked that all the dogs were in the yard before following. The back door to the garage was open, and the pack darted in and out, led by Coy with a frisbee in his mouth.

"Thank God," I sighed. Fetch—something safe and easy.

Or so I thought.

By the time JT's car finally pulled into the driveway, I was a wreck. Sweat soaked my shirt, every muscle ached, and I was covered in dog hair and slobber. The pack was relentless—no sooner did I throw the frisbee than it was back in my hand. Their excited thoughts bombarded me, leaving me barely able to think straight. I was pretty sure that even the auto-dog had short-circuited.

The shed, just across the yard—the one place I hoped could contain me for the full moon—stood out of reach, unexplored.

I'd tried—and spectacularly failed—to escape. The fence was too tall to reach over for the key, its wooden frame and wire mesh perfect for keeping dogs (and apparently short humans) trapped. I even tried climbing it (though my lack of upper body strength made it a struggle), and as soon as I got any height, a black lab named Puddy barreled into me, knocking me flat on my back.

Winded and exhausted, I sprawled on the grass, too drained to move. The cool grass felt good against my skin, and I figured a quick rest couldn't hurt. Boden seemed to agree, flopping on top of me, his massive weight pinning me to the ground.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The other dogs followed, some curling up around me like I was a human dog bed.

Four of them—Annie, Rosie, Emma, and Maggie—took the chance to lick the sweat off my forehead. Coy introduced each of them in turn as I tried to fend them off, but with Boden pinning me, it was futile. There were more of them than I had the arms to defend against. I curled my arms around my face in a weak attempt at protection, but the determined lickers went straight for my ears instead.

Desperate, I tried one of Candice's self-defense moves to escape a pin, but it didn't work on dogs the way it did on people. Boden just slid higher, his weight pressing into my ribs, making it harder to breathe.

Beyond Boden, one of the smaller dogs—Rudy, the schnauzer with an impressive Fu Manchu—got a little too excited. He decided to 'help' by mounting my leg, enthusiastically poking me with... well, himself. Kicking him off only seemed to encourage him further.

I sent a mental plea to Coy, who nipped Rudy on the rear, sending the little pervert scurrying off.

Amid the flurry of paws and slobber, I spotted the black cat perched lazily on the fence, watching me with a look of disdainful amusement. I grumbled, resigned to my fate, when the slam of a car door cut through the chaos.

Suddenly, all the dogs—except for Coy, still guarding me from Rudy, and Boden, blissfully napping on top of me—rushed to the fence, barking.

I twisted my head and spotted a tall figure approaching—JT.

"So, I guess that answers the question: who let the dogs out?" JT's voice had that easy, confident lilt that immediately put me on guard. Great—another guy with a smile too charming for his own good. "You must be AJ."

"You must be JT." I said, wriggling beneath Boden, trying to shimmy enough to breathe.

JT could've easily looked over the fence, but he crouched just outside the mesh. Even then, he towered over me—tall, lean, and clean-shaven. But it was his hair that got me.

I wasn't in the market for dating, but I had a type. And JT, with that hair? Yeah, that hit the mark—long, tied back in a messy bun, streaked with sun-bleached gold. Dirty blonde. My favorite.

Why, God, did I have to be covered in sweat and dog? Now?

JT surveyed the fence, with a half dozen wet noses poking through, holding the bundle of leashes I'd abandoned. "Vanessa didn't mention waiting for me? Jumping into a pack of strange dogs solo isn't the best idea. Easy way to get hurt. Even for ones this—well-behaved."

"Oh, can it. I know what I'm doing," I shot back on reflex, still wrestling with Boden's weight, trying to ignore how my heart pounded from more than just exertion.

JT raised an eyebrow but let it slide. His gaze shifted to the key dangling from the gate. "Let me guess—Boden knocked you over and you got locked in?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, something like that."

"You alright? You look like you're on the verge of death," JT teased, though there was genuine concern in his tone. I huffed, ready to shoot back a retort, but the way he looked at me—concerned, not patronizing—caught me off guard. Since when did I care what he thought?

"It's hotter than I expected," I admitted, trying to downplay my exhaustion.

His eyes dropped to my turtleneck, brow raised. "Didn't realize we were expecting snow."

"It's for sun protection," I muttered.

"Right..." His concern slid back into amusement. "Let's get you inside."

"That was the plan," I said, ruffling Boden's ears. "But apparently, I make a perfect dog pillow."

His head followed after my hand as I pulled away.

JT chuckled. "Yeah, he still thinks he's a lap puppy. The size thing hasn't clicked yet."

"Any tips on getting him off?" I asked, instantly regretting the phrasing. Blatant Freudian slip. Great—now I'm stuck thinking about... Nope. Abort.

JT grinned. "Simple—don't let him on you in the first place."

"Helpful. Is there a Plan B?"

JT shrugged. "He'll move when he's hungry."

"How long will that take?" I asked, exasperated.

JT smirked. "I've got this." He grabbed the key from the gate and disappeared around the front. Moments later, the garage door creaked open, followed by the unmistakable shake of a food bag.

The effect was instant—like flipping a switch. Every dog's head snapped toward the garage, including Boden's. In perfect unison, they bolted. Boden launched off me like a cannonball, knocking the wind out of me again.

Only Coy and Maggie the licker, an older German Shepherd, stayed back with me. Coy's ears pricked in JT's direction, but a sense of concern and duty kept him by my side. I could tell he was hungry too, but loyalty won out this time.

I gave him a reassuring pat and sent him a thought. I'm fine, Coy. Go on—get some food.

He hesitated, then trotted off, followed by Maggie, leaving me to catch my breath and fix my now unkempt updo.

I found JT in the garage, methodically measuring out food for each dog. Without missing a beat, he explained, "Most of the dogs get the same kibble, but the portions vary depending on their size," he said, scooping a larger portion into a bowl. "Boden here gets a different feed and a larger portion since he's still a growing boy—and a really big one."

JT set Boden's bowl aside and headed into the kitchen to prep smaller portions for Maggie and Murray. "They get wet food," he explained, "they're older and don't have the same appetite. I feed them inside—otherwise, the other dogs try to steal it. Especially Boden. He'll eat anything remotely edible, and it can be hard to stop him."

The dogs swarmed their bowls, but I noticed Boden eyeing the others' meals. JT caught my look. "Remember to be vigilant with this one."

"Got it," I said, trying to focus on the task at hand. "Keep an eye on Boden and make sure he doesn't eat the others' food?"

"Exactly," JT said, setting the bowls down. "God forbid a creature his size get overweight. Typically, I feed them twice a day—mornings and evenings—and you should try to keep that schedule."

I tried to focus on JT's words, but my mind wandered. JT had a subtle smell which I found appealing. No noxious cologne, but something simple and earthy, like unscented soap. Cleanliness that didn't overwhelm the senses.

He wore a simple Charleston Bridge Run T-shirt and navy scrubs—scrubs? That was unexpected. But he made them look good. Like jeans. A guy who could pull off both rugged and professional.

I sniffed the air, and sure enough, I caught the faint scent of antiseptic.

"Hey, JT," I called, following behind him. "What's with the scrubs? You a doctor or something?"

He smiled. "Vet assistant. For now. I'm working on my license."

A career-minded guy—check. I pictured him in that tight shirt, holding puppies. Mentally, I added another checkbox to my list just to cross it off.

We left the kitchen, where Maggie and Murray were still eating. The house had a cozy, lived-in vibe—cluttered but well-kept, filled with aquariums of all sizes, open-topped terrariums, and an aviary. Definitely the home of someone who loved animals.

My attention drifted from the animals to JT's scrubs hugging his legs, his T-shirt snug across his chest. I could tell he worked out. He was ticking all kinds of boxes—objective, subjective... and suggestive.

I needed to stop this. I was here for a job, not a date. Time to stay professional—no crushing on the first cute guy I talked to in ages. I turned my attention back to the house, searching for something—anything—to make small talk with.

"So... who died for Sandy to get a place like this?"

"Her aunt," JT said simply.

"Oh... were they close?"

"Like mother and daughter."

Definitely time for a change of subject.

"This place feels more like a zoo than a house," I said, glancing around. "Is that... an actual monkey?"

JT nodded. "Yep, that's Carl. Capuchin monkey—a real troublemaker. Don't let him out unless Sandy or I are with you. He's big on breaking things."

JT paused, giving me a serious look. "You don't have any knives or lighters on you, do you?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

"Good. Carl's a pro at pickpocketing—was raised by a street gang supposedly, so keep anything dangerous out of reach."

"Like a gun?" I half-joked.

JT's deadpan didn't budge. "Especially a gun."

I clutched my bag a little tighter as we moved on.

We walked through the house as JT introduced me to the rest of Sandy's zoo. In one room, two cockatoos were perched, watching Adventure Time on a tiny TV. JT lifted his arm, whistling, and they flew right to him, alighting on his arm. Honestly, I wasn't sure what impressed me more—the animals or how good JT looked handling them.

"Meet Phin and Ferb," JT said, gesturing to the cockatoos. "They are free to fly around inside—just don't let them outside."

"And Adventure Time?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sandy's teaching them new phrases," JT said. "They came from an evangelical church. They got really good at imitating the pastor—right up until they started saying some pretty blasphemous things in his voice."

My phone rang. I checked it, but no call, but a woman's voice answered nonetheless.

"I'm here to talk about your car's extended warranty."

"The hell?" I responded.

The birds squawked with laughter.

"They love trolling people," JT said with a slight grin. "Watch what you say—they'll throw your own words right back at you."

Looking at me, one of the cockatoos spoke, mimicking JT's voice perfectly:

"That's a nice ass," followed by a playful whistle.

The other chimed in with an exaggerated, "Amen!" in a deep preacher's voice.

Heat rushed to my cheeks. JT just shrugged, clearly used to their antics. My mind, of course, spiraled—had JT said that before? And would he say it to me? The thought made my face burn even hotter.

Damn it, brain, not now.

I shook myself, trying to focus. But who was I kidding? My mind had been in the gutter long before JT walked in.

JT dismissed the birds and, after removing the contents of a nearby drawer, handed me a large notebook labeled Familiar Care, along with a laminated checklist.

"This has everything you need to know," JT said, suddenly all business. "The checklist covers the essentials, and I've already marked off those I fed this morning. I've also annotated several of Sandy's notes since hers aren't well-organized. Vanessa says you can handle these kinds of things."

I nodded, flipping through the folder. In truth, I found the sheer amount of information overwhelming. "Well, with all this prep, seems like anyone could do it," I said, trying to hide my nervousness.

JT shook his head. "I still wouldn't underestimate these guys. They're not pets, but you know that. If they weren't so capable of getting into trouble, Sandy wouldn't have been asked to foster them. If it were up to me, I wouldn't hand this job to someone as new as you, but few are willing to take the job."

I bristled at the sting. "Rude. Didn't V vouch for me? I don't need Mr. Tall, Dark, and Veterinarian to save me." I grinned, sensing an opportunity. "But hey, why not give me your number?—In case I need backup."

I tried to sound casual but instantly felt like an idiot. Since when did flirting feel like parallel parking—awkward, with way too much room for error?

JT hesitated, looking a little flustered. Hah—this time I'd caught him off guard. He pulled out a card. "Alright, but seriously—call me if anything goes sideways."

"Sideways in what way? Will Carl set the house on fire or something?"

"Not for a lack of trying."

Okay... I pocketed the card, nodding. "Thanks, JT."

As JT kept talking, my gaze drifted to his hands, my mind bouncing between his words and... other things. Only one ring, on his right hand—a graduation ring. Silver. Real silver. Note to self: no shaking hands.

I sniffed the air as he walked by, searching for hints of feminine shampoo or perfume. To my dismay—a positive match. Cucumber melon. Garnier Fructis. My lycanthropic nose had perfect scent memory—smell-o-graphic, you could say. Even in human form, I could identify any scent I'd ever encountered before. So, JT had traces of women's shampoo. From a girlfriend, perhaps?

No... it wasn't coming from his clothes.

I sniffed again, curious.

"Uh, are you... smelling me?" JT asked, one eyebrow raised.

I fumbled for an excuse. "Uh, I was just curious about your shampoo. Smells... floral."

JT looked amused. "Oh, that? Cucumber melon. My sister recommended it—because of my long hair."

Knew it.

"Conditioner, too?" I couldn't help asking.

"Of course."

So, he used product on himself. His hair must be baby-soft. I caught myself imagining running my fingers through it—again.

After wrapping up the tour, JT gave me a few last-minute tips before heading out. I could raid Sandy's pantry, use her van, and if I needed to purchase anything for the animals, there was cash stashed in the cookie jar above the sink. Sandy would pay me when she got back.

"Feeding and taking the animals outside for exercise is the easiest way to bond with them. But—and this goes without saying—don't let any of the animals out during the next few nights."

"Yeah, fireworks and a full moon," I replied without thinking. Fireworks were rough on dogs—wolves too. I hadn't meant to mention the moon, but JT didn't seem to catch it. He just gave me a thumbs-up and headed out—in a hurry to get back to work.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I collapsed onto the couch, completely drained.

But exhaustion couldn't wipe the grin off my face. JT was trouble—the kind I should avoid. But maybe, just maybe, a little bit of that trouble wouldn't be so bad.

The normal kind of trouble I hadn't had in a while. I might even make a few extra calls—just for the hell of it.

I still had to check out the shed and figure out how to avoid waking up in someone else's yard tomorrow. But that could wait. Right now, I just needed to close my eyes for a minute.

No sooner had I settled in than Boden launched himself onto my lap, crashing down like a ton of bricks.

"Seriously, Boden?" I wheezed, struggling to breathe. He gazed up at me with those big, innocent eyes, then rolled over, angling for a belly rub.

Instead, I got steamrolled.