"No way," Caleb said flatly, lowering his brows stubbornly. Dayle sat back, flipping over to lean back on her elbows, watching the two glare at each other. "For one thing, you've been stealing burgers, and I have no reason to trust you won't do the same thing here. Second, if she- sorry, what's your name?"
"Dayle," she replied, smiling.
Caleb nodded at her once before frowning once again at Rosemary. "If Dayle says you haven't been a wolf very long, I sure as hell don't want you anywhere near meat and humans in any sort of near-ish vacinity. And third, but certainly not least, your brother would likely kill me if I so much as thought about agreeing to this. So in answer to your question, yes, the wanted sign is valid, but not to you. No offense, but if you want a job, you'd best look elsewhere."
"I heard Marcus down at the gas station needs a hand cleaning up his garage," Dayle spoke up helpfully, ignoring the fact that this would put Rosemary farther away from the object of her obsession. "Caleb's right. You can work your way up to a job like this, but it really isn't the sort of place you can just start out. Not when you're a- teenager."
Caleb wanted to smack his face. He should have heard Brian walking up to the register, but he had been so busy gleaning information about Dayle's pack that he hadn't been paying attention. Stupid. Dayle obviously heard and/or smelled him approaching and quickly changed her sentence from what she was originally going to say, just in time for him to hear it.
One would think that the owner of one of the most popular non-chain burger places in Eastern Pennsylvania would would have a wide frame, big face and round smile, common to people who spent a lifetime eating burgers. But Brian O'Connelly was the complete opposite: rail-thin with big hands and feet, a bush of red curly hair pulled away from his face in a horse tail, and bright, intelligent little blue eyes. He looked just as bad in the Golden Burger uniform as any of his employees, but his big smile and radiant personality were generally enough to distract people from his outlandish clothing. Brian was a divorced father of two girls, and there had been rumors that his wife left him because of his ridiculous work attire.
He walked forward now, his boots clomping on the rubber matte behind the register, and he clamped a giant hand on Caleb's shoulder, grinning down at the two girls. "Ladies," he said by way of greeting, tipping his imaginary hat. "Did I hear correctly, or might one of you be looking for a job?"
Caleb panicked. "Yeah, Boss, but this one's too young for applying. Not over 18. I was just asking if she knew anyone else that needed a job."
Brian eyed Rosemary thoughtfully. "You sure? She may be a might small, but she doesn't look younger than 18."
Caleb stared at the young wolf, trying to drill into her head obedience and acceptance. "That's what you told me, right?"