Tall, Silent & Lethal (Pyte/Sentinel #4)(34)

“Uh huh,” she said, letting him lead her towards the front door. “And why don’t I believe you?”

“Because you’re paranoid?” he offered with a wink as he released her right hand and grabbed his sweatshirt off the coatrack.

“Fine,” she said, pursing her lips up in thought as he released her other hand so that he could pull on the sweatshirt, “I’ll have lunch with you, but on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he asked, starting to pull his sweatshirt on.

“That you leave the sweatshirt home,” she said, knowing damn well that he didn’t leave the house without his sweatshirt, pretty much guaranteeing that she would never have to see him again.

*-*-*-*

“H-h-how m-many?” the waitress finally managed to ask after a full minute and a half of blatantly staring at Christofer, who was looking decidedly uncomfortable and making her feel kind of bad.

She still couldn’t believe that he’d agreed to her terms. He hated this kind of attention and honestly, if she’d known that he was going to say yes, she never would have made the request in the first place. Instead of doing what she’d expected, he’d gone completely still, staring down at the sweatshirt in his hands, his life support, before reluctantly nodding and returning the sweatshirt to the hook.

“We don’t have to do-” she started to say, giving him the escape that he clearly needed.

“Two,” he said tightly, cutting her off.

“O-okay,” the waitress said, wide-eyed stare still fixed on Christofer as she blindly reached out and grabbed a handful of menus. “Right this way,” the waitress said numbly, reluctantly turning around so that she could show them to a booth.

Looking decidedly uncomfortable, Christofer gestured for her to walk ahead of him. She opened her mouth to once again offer him an escape, but with a resigned sigh, shook her head and followed the waitress. He was a grown man and if he wanted to put himself through this hell then that was his choice. Who knows, maybe the whole thing would piss him off enough that he’d willingly let her leave without an argument, she hoped as every conversation in the small diner stopped and every head turned to gawk in Christopher’s direction.

She’d be on the road within the hour since she doubted that he’d be able to last more than ten minutes before he ended up making a run for it.

Chapter 14

“I’ll give you a few minutes to decide,” the waitress said hollowly, her eyes never leaving him as she slowly backed away from the table.

Christofer did his best to ignore her and the rest of the patrons who were now openly staring at them and focused on the woman sitting across from him. Other than throwing the gawking customers a curious look, Cloe didn’t seem to care one way or the other about their audience.

“What’s good here?” she asked, picking up her menu and turning her attention to ordering food, the rest of the customers clearly forgotten.

Hell, he wished that he could forget them, but the eerie silence that had taken over the small diner made it impossible. He could hear every startled breath taken, every heartbeat racing with excitement, and every subtle shift on the vinyl covered seats as they did their best to get a better view. When the hushed whispers broke through the silence he wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved or pissed.

Definitely pissed, he thought a minute later as he was forced to sit there and pretend that he couldn’t hear what they were saying about him.

“I can’t believe he’s here!”

“He never goes anywhere without his hood!”

“He’s such a freak!”

“Oh my God! He looks exactly as he did thirty years ago! Wait until I tell Mavis!”

“I hear she’s living with them!”

“I wonder if she’s a freak like him.”

“I thought he didn’t eat. What’s he doing here?”

“They should have run him out of town years ago!”

“Hank needs to kick him out. He doesn’t belong here!”

“You don’t have to stay here,” Cloe said, bringing his attention back to her and away from the whispers that seemed to be getting louder with each passing second.

It took him a minute to realize that most of the customers had stopped whispering and were now talking loud enough for Cloe to hear what they were saying. They were probably hoping that he’d take the hint and get the hell out. If it weren’t for the woman sitting across from him, he’d probably do just that.

What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn’t left the house in over forty years without a hat or a sweatshirt, because he hadn’t wanted to deal with this bullshit. He still earned stares and whispers wherever he went, but never to this degree. Then again, they’d probably still be reacting like this even if he had brought his sweatshirt, he realized. He hadn’t stepped foot in a restaurant since he’d moved here over forty years ago. He was also out with a woman who wasn’t his elderly sister, something that he’d never done before since most women in this town took one look at him and ran screaming the other way.

“I’m fine,” he said, opening his menu and forcing himself to ignore everything going on around them.

“Do you know what you’d like?” their waitress asked as she approached the table, sounding normal and giving him some hope that at least one person was going to stop treating him like a freak.