Page 43 of Blood

“Hi, baby,” he greets me, leaning down to kiss my right cheek.

I pull back before he can make contact.

Has he lost his fucking mind?

The look I give him asks as much. He stays bent toward me; his right hand braced on the back of my booth, his left on the table.

Annoyance washes over his features, but it fades a second later, his usual smile replacing it.

“Scooch over,” he orders, his body invading my space even more.

Shuffling over, I glare at Shelby.

“Who can say no to that face?” she asks, motioning across the table to Kaleb.

I roll my eyes.

“I’ve been trying to talk to you,” Kaleb says quietly, his body turned toward me, our knees touching.

I feel it as if his hand was resting there. The thought just makes me madder. “I haven’t had my phone on me.”

“All week?”

I shrug, looking away. Anywhere but at him.

The diner’s owner comes to the table before I can sulk anymore.

“I thought you were out of town again,” Judy says, looking at Kaleb.

“He was,” I mutter dryly.

“And now I’m not.” He smiles cheerfully.

Judy looks between everyone at the table. “You want the usual order?”

“I’m suddenly not hungry.” I shake my head.

Kaleb tuts. “You need to eat.”

“I’m not hungry,” I snap.

Why does he make me so mad?

This past week has been quiet and peaceful. Boring and sad. Lonely. The fact that I missed the asshole raises my temperature more than sitting next to him does.

Kaleb leans his head back on the booth and groans. A rush of images floods my brain. What we did that night. The way he gripped my hips, the grunts he made.

I feel my face flush, heat searing through me. My chest feels tight.

I fucked him.

I had sex with Kaleb.

Guilt, disgust, embarrassment, and shame consume me. But it’s what I don’t feel that tips me over the edge. Regret.

“Samantha,” Kaleb whispers. His hand feels heavy and intrusive on my thigh, and even though it’s under the table, I feel exposed.

Do they know?