Sixteen
“Seven o’clock,” Adam muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall beside the kitchen door of the restaurant. “Thank God.”
He hastily untied his apron, yanked it off, and hung it beside the others next to the time clock.
“Where do you think you’re going, Brandon?”
Adam turned to find Dora pushing through the double doors from the dining room and frowned at the nasty scowl on her face. The owner was in town, and she’d been walking on the proverbial eggshells all day, which had put everyone in a foul mood. Adam had been forced to wait tables for a while earlier that afternoon while one of the waitresses took care of a personal matter. As a rule, he avoided getting volunteered to cover wait shifts, even for a few minutes. Too many people in town knew Aelissm or her grandparents. He
