She frowns but nods, heading to the window. I deliver Mrs. Henderson’s muffin, then drop off the check at Table 6. My skin is crawling, every instinct screaming danger.
Rosie sidles up to me as I’m ringing up Table 6’s payment. “There’s a guy out there,” she whispers. “Looks like he’s waiting for someone. Why? You know him?”
I shake my head, relief washing over me. “No, just… thought I recognized him. It’s nothing.”
She eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t push it. “Alright. Hey, can you take Table 3? They’ve been waiting for their Trucker’s Special for, like, ten minutes.”
I nod, grateful for the distraction. The Trucker’s Special—a heart attack on a plate. Three eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns, and a stack of pancakes that could choke a horse. I grab the massive plates from the kitchen window, balancing them carefully.
As I approach Table 3, I plaster on my best fake smile. “Here we go, boys. One artery-clogger, extra grease.”
The two truckers at the table laugh appreciatively. One of them, a redhead with a beard that could house small animals, whistles low. “Damn, sweetheart. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the smirk tugging at my lips. “Save it for your wife, Red. You need anything else?”
His buddy, a bald guy with arms like tree trunks, chuckles. “Maybe your number?”
I cock an eyebrow at the two truckers. “Keep dreaming, boys. I’ve got standards, and grease-stained fingers don’t make the cut.”
The bald one clutches his chest in mock pain. “Ouch, darlin’. You wound me.”
“You’ll live,” I toss back, already turning away. “Enjoy your heart attack on a plate.”
Their chuckles follow me as I weave between tables, but my mind’s already elsewhere. That guy across the street is still bugging me…
As I grab the coffee pot for a refill round, my eyes dart to the window. The guy in the sunglasses is still there, leaning against the lamppost like he’s got all the time in the world. His posture is relaxed, one ankle crossed over the other, but there’s something about the set of his shoulders that screams “alert.”
I force myself to look away, focusing on Mrs. Henderson as I top up her cup. “How’s that muffin treating you, hon?”
She beams up at me, crumbs clinging to her wrinkled chin. “Delicious as always, dear. You tell Joe he’s outdone himself this time.”
I bite back a snort. If Joe knew how to bake, I’d eat my apron. “Will do, Mrs. H.”
As I move to the next table, I catch Rosie’s eye. She jerks her head toward the window, mouthing, “Still there.”
I give her a barely perceptible nod, my mind racing. Who the hell is this guy? And why do I get the feeling he’s not just waiting for a bus?
I grab a rag, pretending to wipe down an already clean table near the window. From this angle, I’ve got a clear view of Mr. Mystery without being obvious about it.
He shifts, reaching into his pocket, and for a heart-stopping moment, I think he’s going for a gun. But it’s just his phone. He brings it to his ear, turning slightly away from the diner.
I strain to hear, but the traffic noise drowns out his words. His body language is casual, but there’s an intensity to the way he’s speaking that sets my teeth on edge.
Just as I’m about to give up and head back inside, a flash of color catches my eye. A woman in a bright yellow sundress is waving frantically from across the street, her face lit up with a megawatt smile.
Mr. Mystery turns, and even from here, I can see the tension drain from his body. He raises a hand in greeting, ending his call and pocketing the phone.
The woman practically skips across the street, throwing herself into his arms. He catches her easily, spinning her around as she laughs.
I feel like an idiot. All that paranoia and he’s just a guy waiting for his girlfriend.
Christ, Wren, get a grip.
“You planning on polishing that table into oblivion?” Joe’s gruff voice makes me jump.
I turn, forcing a smile. “Just making sure it’s up to your exacting standards, boss.”
He grunts, but I catch the hint of amusement in his eyes. “Table 5 needs menus. And tell Rosie to stop gossiping and start working, or I’m docking both your pays.”
