RETT POV
We left the house in wolf form, just like yesterday. The snow had crusted into a hard layer under our paws, crunching with each step as we ran toward the diner. Pauline was already outside in her fluffy pink parka when we arrived, holding a plastic bag in each hand like we were a couple of oversized strays she’d adopted.
“Backyard,” she said with a smile. “Try not to flash the neighbors.”
Classy.
We shifted and dressed behind the shed, then stepped inside and started helping around. Her father grunted a greeting—he was warming up to us, slowly. Not a single death glare this morning, so I counted it as progress.
It was a slow day. Barely a dozen customers floated in and out, and by 9 a.m. we were basically hovering around looking for things to wipe, refill, or pretend to clean
