Page 8 of Old Flame

She nodded her head, then opened the oven to pull out what looked like potato skins, smothered in cheese and bacon. I loved those things. She always made them for me on special occasions.

“Salem has a friend coming,” Mom said, then shot me a grin. “I think she’s got a crush on him. God knows the boy can’t keep his eyes off her at school. Good kid,” she said, then placed the pan of potato skins on the hot pad. “Go check the ribs and corn,” she urged.

Snatching up the sheet pan and tongs she had lying out, I left the kitchen.

Mom had done all this for some guy that Salem had coming over? Did she think she needed to impress him for Salem’s sake? Because Salem had that handled with the lack of clothing she was wearing.

I glanced at the mirror that hung on the wall as I passed it, and the scowl on my face matched my mood.Shouldn’t Mom be more worried about making Salem—oh, I don’t know—put on a goddamn bra and some shorts that you couldn’t see the outlineof her pussy in?

The back door slammed behind me.

Putting the pan down with more force than necessary, I went over to open the grill. Spare ribs, coated with her special seasoning, and foil-covered cobs of corn filled the rack. I took the tongs and began getting the corn out, pissed that Mom had gone to all this trouble for some fucking boy.

“Do you need any help?”

I tensed and inhaled sharply at the sound of Salem’s voice. Not looking up at her, I continued to keep my sole attention on my task.

“I got it,” I replied, hearing the edge in my voice.

“I can carry the corn inside for you if you need to wait longer on the ribs,” she offered.

Getting out the last of the corn, I closed the lid so the ribs had a few more minutes. “I said, I got it.” That was a little too harsh.

My eyes darted to her, and I wished they hadn’t. Dammit, she looked like she might cry.

Just go away, Salem. Don’t keep poking the bear.

“Okay, I just, uh…okay,” she stammered and turned to walk back toward the house.

Fuck. I clenched my teeth in hopes that I’d keep my mouth shut and let her walk away, but the moment her hand touched the screen door latch, I caved.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” The words came out rushed.

Needing no other encouragement, Salem spun around, and those eyes—which I swore to God were going to be the death of me—were glistening with unshed tears. A knot in my chest twisted, and I took a deep breath.

“Did I do something…” She trailed off and pulled that lip between her teeth again.

Yeah. You make my dick hard, and you’re too fucking young.

“No. Just having a bad day.”

Her expression softened into one of concern. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you wanted to come see your mom and not have to deal with this.” She scrunched her nose. “I didn’t ask her to do all this.”

I shrugged. “That’s just how Mom is.”

We stood there, staring at each other a tad too long as the silence began to stretch. I doubted anyone could ever get tired of looking at that face.

Jesus, talk about a fucking Lolita.

“I’ll go see if I can help Vanna inside,” she said, then gave me the sweetest smile.

For a second, I forgot why I had been pissed. Then my eyes dropped to her perky tits and the hard nipples poking against the fabric of her sorry excuse for a top, and I remembered. My hand tightened on the tongs I was still holding.

“Do you own a bra?” It almost sounded like a snarl.

Those incredible blue eyes widened, and she hesitated, then nodded. She looked nervous. But even that couldn’t stop me. I knew I couldn’t handle some dick checking out her tits.

“Put it on. I can see your nipples from here,” I told her, realizing I sounded possessive. Not wanting her to get the wrong idea, I added, “Out of respect for my mom. Whoever this kid is, he doesn’t need to be looking at your tits at the dinner table, and with you dressed like that, he won’t be able to look anywhere else.”

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