Foreman was able to flag down the waitress the next time she passed and ordered two large coffees. Amber shouldn't be far behind him. She'd be cold; he was, himself, and he had more body mass to resist the cold. A hot mug to wrap his hands around would be welcome, and Amber would want one too.
A couple of minutes later, she walked in the door. Foreman had been looking up whenever he heard it open or felt the slight rush of cooler air from the entrance. He sat back and watched in satisfaction as she headed towards him, clearly pleased at the table he'd managed to snag. It seemed somehow like in the time they'd been fighting, he'd forgotten just how gorgeous she was, and now it came rushing back to his attention. In the middle of a bitter argument, he'd only seen Amber, fierce and icy by turns, frustrating as hell and refusing to listen to him. As she sat down opposite him, it was like Foreman could remember exactly how attracted to her he'd been from the start. Her blonde hair crackled and sparked from the dry, cold air, and her cheeks were pink. There was a gleam in her eyes as she teased him that reminded him of lying in bed with her, both of them on the verge of slipping into sleep, after they'd both come and he'd finally, regretfully, slipped out of her and cleaned up, only to curl an arm around her as soon as he could. Those memories let him squeeze her hand back easily, glad that she'd resumed the contact. The vestiges of his headache were still bothering him, but he could breathe, and, at last, he could smile back at her. "Of all the pancake joints in all the world," he agreed.
The waitress came back at that moment and deposited their coffee in front of them, along with a tray of sugars and creams. "Get nything for you?" she asked, taking out her pen and order pad with a glance at Amber. Foreman's grin widened--seemed like she'd already trained the staff here.
It took her question to make Foreman realize how damn hungry he was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a proper meal. Bagels grabbed in the cafeteria and meal bars from the hospital vending machines didn't count. No wonder his head hurt. "Yeah, eggs fried soft, sausage, hash browns, brown toast," he said. He didn't care what time of night it was, he needed the protein. They'd only agreed to come for coffee, but he doubted Amber would resent him eating a meal.
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A couple of minutes later, she walked in the door. Foreman had been looking up whenever he heard it open or felt the slight rush of cooler air from the entrance. He sat back and watched in satisfaction as she headed towards him, clearly pleased at the table he'd managed to snag. It seemed somehow like in the time they'd been fighting, he'd forgotten just how gorgeous she was, and now it came rushing back to his attention. In the middle of a bitter argument, he'd only seen Amber, fierce and icy by turns, frustrating as hell and refusing to listen to him. As she sat down opposite him, it was like Foreman could remember exactly how attracted to her he'd been from the start. Her blonde hair crackled and sparked from the dry, cold air, and her cheeks were pink. There was a gleam in her eyes as she teased him that reminded him of lying in bed with her, both of them on the verge of slipping into sleep, after they'd both come and he'd finally, regretfully, slipped out of her and cleaned up, only to curl an arm around her as soon as he could. Those memories let him squeeze her hand back easily, glad that she'd resumed the contact. The vestiges of his headache were still bothering him, but he could breathe, and, at last, he could smile back at her. "Of all the pancake joints in all the world," he agreed.
The waitress came back at that moment and deposited their coffee in front of them, along with a tray of sugars and creams. "Get nything for you?" she asked, taking out her pen and order pad with a glance at Amber. Foreman's grin widened--seemed like she'd already trained the staff here.
It took her question to make Foreman realize how damn hungry he was. He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten a proper meal. Bagels grabbed in the cafeteria and meal bars from the hospital vending machines didn't count. No wonder his head hurt. "Yeah, eggs fried soft, sausage, hash browns, brown toast," he said. He didn't care what time of night it was, he needed the protein. They'd only agreed to come for coffee, but he doubted Amber would resent him eating a meal.