This was written for the ff100 theme 'hours'.
There were some things that Calleigh really liked about south Florida; the mild winters, living near the beach, having some of the greatest Cuban restaurants in the country at her fingertips. Unfortunately, the extreme summers wasn't on her list. Neither was Eric's tasteful, yet economical, sedan. If she rode with him, it got them from point A to point B, she would give him that. She just didn't like the fact it lacked an air conditioner. It wasn't a bad thing if the vehicle was moving, not at all. He drove the little car like he was a stock car driver, so there was always a guarantee of a nice breeze. When it was stationary, it could get stifling. Just like it was now.
"I told you we should have gone to Versialle's," she said, a little too dramatically than her normal calm tones. "It's down the street from your place, they have the best chicken and rice, and we could have walked." She fanned herself with a stray takeout menu she found laying in the floorboard.
Eric leaned his head back against the headrest of the driver's seat. "Your birthday only comes once a year, and I wanted it to be special, okay." The afternoon had started out really good. He had picked up Calleigh at around two, intending to take her to West Palm to eat at one of her favorite restaurants. Then he had planned a movie, whatever romantic comedy was out since he knew she had a weakness for them. What he hadn't planned was such a nasty accident to hold them up. It had been roughly an hour of standing still on I-95, with the nearest exit so close he could taste it.
"You didn't make reservations, did you?" she asked, cringing a bit.
He shook his head. "No. When one of your college buddies is a chef there, you don't have to worry about those things," he said, shooting her a sly smile. "I was just hoping we would get there for lunch, that's all."
Calleigh grinned and put her hand on his where it sat on the gear shift. "Il Bellagio will be there when we get out of this stupid jam."
"That's what pisses me off the most." He pointed up ahead of them. "See that exit?"
She nodded. "Okeechobee Blvd."
"That's where we need to be." With the other hand, the hand she wasn't holding he smacked the steering wheel. "I wish we had the Hummer. At least that way we could flip the lights, check the scene, and then go on our merry way."
"It's not our jurisdiction, you know that," she replied, shaking her head. "I told you we should have taken Australian. Or my Jeep."
"So we would have been hot and sunburned by the time we got there?" He asked, with an eyebrow raised.
"Point made, but we would have gotten a breeze." She leaned back in the seat, trying to get comfortable. Why did she have to wear a pant suit? And her hair? That was a lost cause if she knew one. The breeze that came through had ruined her hair, and she was sure it was sticking up in odd places. She didn't even want to go into the state of her makeup. The extra effort she had taken to look nice was now wasted.
"At least there's dinner."
"Next year, we are staying in Miami. Better yet, we are staying in your neighborhood." She glanced at Eric out of the corner of her eye. "What are they doing up there? Normally traffic would be directed to the nearest exit."
"The nearest exit happens to be just beyond." He looked over at her and smiled at her, the smile he reserved for when he had something in store for her. "You know, I can think of lots of things that we could do to pass the time."
Oh no. She recognized that look. First there was the grin. Then the glint in his eyes, the one he normally gave her when if they were around their colleagues, his silent way of saying he had a night of debauchery planned. "Eric, it's broad daylight! And...and...Look! The car next to us has a child in the back seat!" Said child had been staring over at them and sticking it's tongue out at them periodically, making some crazy faces.
"I don't know what you are thinking, Ms. Duquense, but I don't think we are on the same page. He pretended to act offended, but Calleigh saw right through it.
"What are you thinking then, Mr. Delko?" she asked, coyly.
"Word association?"
"Liar," she whispered before she leaned over to him, kissing him lightly.
He returned her kiss, grabbing the emergency brake and pulling the lever so he could let go of the clutch. He threaded his hands into her hair, deepening the kiss and mussing up her blonde tresses even more. How he loved these spontaneous -
They shot apart when the person in the car behind them honked their horn. Traffic had begun to move, and the kid in the next car over was making kissy faces at them.
"Tonight," he warned, the gleam in his eye brighter than before, "tonight we finish what you just started."
"Southern women never start something they can't finish."
The cars began to move once again through the sweltering mid-afternoon heat.