Brotherhood of Fire Read Free Page B

No mistake her thoughts had been about John, and sure as hell not about him wrapping her ankle. Before Garrett blurted anything stupid, Carrie thankfully started hurling instructions for finishing the games and cleaning up. Laughing, he and John moved to fulfill them.
Chapter Three
     
"I was kind of wondering what you think about my wife."
    John's head snapped up and he stopped going over his turnout gear, a flash of apprehension tightening his body. "What?"
Garrett stood at the end of the row of lockers, hands in the pockets of his jeans, hair still wet from his shower.
"Yeah, you know, what do you think about Carrie?"
He studied Garrett, then went back to looking at his gear. Not that a single thought in his head was focused on what he should be doing with it.
"I dunno. She's nice."
"That's it?"
"What do you want me to say here, Garrett? Sounds like you're fishing for something."
He tossed his gear back to the bench and looked at Garrett again. If he only fucking knew. Usually pretty careful to keep his glances and wandering thoughts about Garrett's wife to himself, John knew he'd been busted watching her at the picnic. Garrett had passed it off with a joke, but maybe he'd just waited for a better time to question him on it.
Garrett pushed off the locker and sat down. He grabbed a towel and attacked his wet hair. "Just curious."
"You testing my loyalty?"
"No, I trust you like my brother; you know that. This is hard as hell for me to ask, so if you could just answer the question, John. What do you think about her?"
His gut clenched. "Why, something wrong?" He hoped like hell Garrett wasn't going to say things were going south between them. He didn't want to see them go through something like that, and he sure as hell didn't want to think of Carrie with anyone else.
"No. Nothing like that. Are you going to answer the god damn question or not?"
He stood, paced toward the wall at the end of the bench, and tried to play off the tension rolling through him.
"I like her, sure. Fuck, she's your wife; I don't know what else you want me to say." He closed his eyes. Trusts me like a brother. Yeah, sorry bro, I want your fucking wife. She's my dream woman. I'm in love with her. He sighed. No matter what his feelings, he'd never attempt to take what wasn't his. They were like brothers, and that counted more.
He turned to see Garrett, who stood staring at him, face tight, waiting. Then he noticed he twisted the towel in his lap, knuckles white, face pale, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. Things John never associated with the perpetually grinning, always cool and confident Garrett. Whatever the hell this was, Garrett was dead serious about it. John hoped this wasn't an interrogation and an ass kicking because he'd been found out.
"Fine. She's nice, she's funny, she's got a hell of a mouth on her, and she loves you like crazy. Yeah, I notice. Be hard not to, and yeah, it'd be nice to have someone like that, but not her. Satisfied?"
"Hell of a mouth? As in, sexy mouth?"
Fuck yeah, sexy mouth, god, yes. "As in, she says what the hell she thinks and swears like a sailor, mouth! Christ, Garrett, what the hell? You think I want to fuck your wife, that what you're asking me?"
Garrett was quiet a minute, staring at his hands. "Yeah, I want to know if you want to fuck her, John. That's exactly what I'm asking. Not by yourself. With me."
John's head shot around. Heat from the two bright spots of color flashed on his cheekbones.
Garrett gave a nervous laugh. "Uh huh, thought so."
"Fuck you; that was a cheap shot, and pretty damn disrespectful to your wife, if you ask me." Shit, shit, shit. He couldn't be exposed like this, oh hell no, what a tool.
God damn, did Garrett just say that?
"You like her, John, admit it. You named off three things most guys would never think of—you pay attention to her, or you wouldn't notice. Any other asshole would have laughed and said nice tits or something then walked."
He paid attention, all right; he