"Honey, you cut that out right now!" he said in his thick drawl as the Jeep swerved to the right. She sat in the passenger side next to him, hand creeping up his thigh, with a wicked grin on her face. His mouth formed a hard stubborn frown as he regained control of the car and kept his eyes on the road.
"Aw, babe," she pouted.
"Come on, not now," he muttered. "The bus is right in front of us, we are not fooling around right now. Game is in an hour. Come on!" he protested as her fingers traced up the inseams of his pants. They followed behind the team bus, with banners streaming, up an otherwise empty Texas highway in the late afternoon heat.
He was in work mode, but she wanted to play. She was restless. They'd both been working, too hard, too much, and hadn't been alone together in weeks. Suddenly their old dust-covered Jeep seemed like the most intimate place in the world.
She had been staring at him on the drive, watching him focus, running plays in his head, brushing his hair back from his forehead, eyes squinting in the sun, and she leaned against the window admiring him in his element. But admiring from a distance could only last so long. The sun was warm on her skin, and she wanted to touch her husband. She let her hand stretch out again, gently touching the hair at the base of his neck, then his shoulders, then lower, lower…
"What'd I just say!" He tried to swat her hand away again but she let it rest right on his fly, her hand enveloping what she could feel underneath. She felt him stiffen and groan at her touch. "What are you - are you serious?" he said, taking a moment to look at her. She met his eyes and he did a double take when he realized she wasn't joking, and then a grin started to turn up the corners of his mouth. He snuck a peek at the bus ahead of him and prayed no one was looking out the back window.
She started to move her hand and she heard his sharp intake of breath as he pushed back against the seat. "You have no idea what you're doin' to me right now," he said through his teeth. He bit his lip and leaned back, hands tightening on the wheel.
"Hon…I think I have some idea," she answered, slowly, warmly, her hands still in motion. His knuckles were turning white.
"Here, why don't we just…" screech as the tires turned hard to the left, off the highway onto the grass on the side of the road.
The players on the bus heard the noise and turned their heads. "Hey, where's Coach going?" one of the younger players asked. Some of the other players snickered, and Tim Riggins shook his head and laughed, "Don't worry about it."