Free Don't Cry by Beverly Barton Page B

yelled at, ordered around, and occasionally cursed wasn’t bad enough, the cheapskates who ate at Callie’s because they could buy a meat and three vegetables for $5.99 were definitely not big tippers.
    Whitney glanced at her wristwatch—4:15 P.M.—and smiled when she realized her shift would end in fifteen minutes. Her feet ached, her head hurt, and she probably had a bruise on her butt from where a customer had pinched her. The son of a bitch had actually pinched her ass. When she’d given him a nasty look and told him to keep his hands to himself, he and his two buddies had whooped loudly in her face.
    After going from table to table and refilling coffee cups and tea glasses, she hurried to print out the bills for her two remaining tables. One was a blond guy sitting all alone. He seemed quiet and shy and hadn’t said another word to her after placing his order. He had simply answered when asked if he wanted more tea or a dessert. He had declined both. He’d been pleasant enough, although he hadn’t smiled at her or anyone else, but she had caught him staring at her a couple of times, and the way he’d looked at her had sent chills up her spine. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that spooked her; she just knew that he did, despite the fact that he was young and good-looking.
    She laid his check on the table, asked if he wanted anything else, and turned to go to the next table.
    â€œWait,” he called to her.
    She hesitated, feeling a sense of dread spreading quickly through her; but she turned, smiled, and said, “Yes, sir?”
    He held up a five-dollar bill. “I just wanted to make sure you got your tip.”
    She stared at the money in his hand for a couple of seconds, then snatched it away from him and said, “Thank you.”
    He rose to his feet so quickly that before she had time to move, he was facing her, only a couple of inches separating their bodies. Instinctively, she moved backward, forced another smile, and rushed to the next table. By the time she laid down the check and glanced back, the man was walking out the door. She released a heavy breath, glad to see him leaving.
    But suddenly he stopped, glanced over his shoulder, and smiled at her.
    The only thought that came to mind was something her grandmother had said whenever she got a peculiar feeling. I feel as if somebody just walked over my grave.
    Get real, Whit. Just because that guy was sort of creepy doesn’t mean you should freak out or anything.
    By the time 4:30 rolled around, she had all but forgotten her weird customer. The only thing on her mind was her Sunday night date with Travis. He was bringing over pizza and a DVD. They’d eat, watch the movie, and then do the nasty. They’d been dating a couple of months. Nothing serious. At least not yet. But neither of them was seeing other people. That meant something, didn’t it? He hadn’t said the L-word and neither had she, but she already knew she loved him. And she knew better than to push him. She’d done that before, with disastrous results. Danny had walked away and never looked back, leaving her with a broken heart. That had been nearly two years ago. She wouldn’t make the same mistake with Travis. She’d wait for him to make the first move, to say “I love you,” and take their relationship to the next level.
    Whitney dug the car keys out of her Wal-Mart red purse and slung it over her shoulder as she exited Callie’s Café through the back entrance. When she reached her Honda Civic, a reliable used car she’d bought last year, she paused when the hair on the back of her neck stood up. Someone was watching her. She could feel it.
    Play it cool. Don’t panic. It’s broad daylight. You aren’t alone. There are people inside the restaurant and probably out here, too.
    She glanced around casually, doing her best not to draw attention to herself. Besides the other