“No, I didn't bring it. That was supposed to be your job.” She crawled over the seat and started rummaging through various items of, well, crap in the backseat. No luck.
He kept driving along that straight and mostly featureless highway. They were in Kansas or Nebraska or some other place that he didn't care to be. He kept one eye on the asphalt and one eye on her ass, which looked even better than usual—probably because she was pissed at him. Anger always brought out the sexy in her, which meant that he was always pissing her off.
“I don't recall agreeing to that,” he said. Pastures to the left, farmhouses to the right, a yellow stripe right down the middle. Damn, this place was flat.
She stopped rummaging and returned to facing forward in her seat. She stared straight ahead with cold blue eyes and tight wrinkles above them. Her breathing was hard, and he smiled, hoped she would catch him smiling. Heck, he'd even forgotten what she was looking for back there.
“Where are we?” she asked.
He pulled his right hand off the wheel and, palm up, spread it across the horizon. “Right here.”
She turned toward him and her wrinkles tightened even more.
“What are you smiling about?” she demanded.
Straight up sexy. Made a boring drive a lot less boring, that's for sure.
“I was just thinkin' about somethin'.”
He felt the cold of her eyes, couldn't stop smiling.
“Yeah, I'll bet you were.”
He focused on the yellow stripe in the middle of the road, a ribbon stretched out before them that promised to lead from here to wherever it was they were trying to go.
More pastures and farmhouses, sometimes a car. Each with a story.
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