Ryan was dead on his feet by the time he plated the last order for the night. Between Damon, Damon’s wife, Georgina, and a few of the wait staff he managed to have a sous chef at all times, which helped make the frantic night at least bearable.
He’d found himself changing a few of the previous chef’s dishes, and according to Damon there had been no complaints and even a few compliments. Sounded like a win to him.
Ryan surveyed the kitchen and didn’t even know where to start to begin the cleanup. His legs were wobbly and his eyelids at half-mast. Hell, when he’d left home this morning he had not expected to start work and for this many hours. He needed to get home and feed poor Jonesy.
He leaned against the closest counter and closed his eyes, intending to rest them for just a moment.
“
