Foreman tried not to show that he was watching Amber like a hawk as she took her first bite of the omelette. The toast hadn't impressed her, fine, but Foreman hadn't had anything to do with that beyond shoving some bread into the toaster and taking it out a minute later. She could hate the toast and he wouldn't care. But when her enthusiasm for the eggs amounted to "not bad", Foreman deflated. He thought it was delicious. He chewed another bite, and yeah, it was amazing. Filling, the taste sharp when he caught a bit of cheddar, the peppers chewy and sweet, the onion flavour softened by being caramelized. The bacon was salty enough and the tabasco he'd added was hot enough that it didn't even need salt and pepper. So maybe it was just him--she didn't like omelettes. Fine. But she'd reacted at about the same level to last night's disaster. Maybe she thought he'd be self-conscious about compliments, when really, if she'd praised him last night he would've been more embarrassed, because that had just been food. This was the one thing he could do in the kitchen.
Well, he couldn't make her like it. And it would mean less than nothing if he asked her what she thought and went fishing for compliments. Foreman cleared his mouth with a swallow of coffee and focused on his challenge. The idea of Amber playing basketball caught his imagination: he didn't know if she had skills or if she'd be carrying the ball all over the court. He could picture it either way, or even better, the third option: maybe she was a shark. She'd pretend to be helpless until he dropped his guard, and then swish in a three-pointer when his back was turned. The image restored his good humour, and he smiled. "We'll see," he said. "My gym does guest passes." He hadn't even checked the time, but it didn't matter, they had the whole afternoon. After that, well, if Amber wanted to keep him around for another day, let alone another week, then they had the evening too. Taunting, just for the fun of watching Amber respond to a challenge, he said, "You can show me your moves."
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Well, he couldn't make her like it. And it would mean less than nothing if he asked her what she thought and went fishing for compliments. Foreman cleared his mouth with a swallow of coffee and focused on his challenge. The idea of Amber playing basketball caught his imagination: he didn't know if she had skills or if she'd be carrying the ball all over the court. He could picture it either way, or even better, the third option: maybe she was a shark. She'd pretend to be helpless until he dropped his guard, and then swish in a three-pointer when his back was turned. The image restored his good humour, and he smiled. "We'll see," he said. "My gym does guest passes." He hadn't even checked the time, but it didn't matter, they had the whole afternoon. After that, well, if Amber wanted to keep him around for another day, let alone another week, then they had the evening too. Taunting, just for the fun of watching Amber respond to a challenge, he said, "You can show me your moves."