a/n: Thanks everyone for your patience. It's summer, so, you know the drill. Busy life, lots of priorities, blah, blah, blah. Anyway, I hope this is worth the wait. This is a very cutesy Pamela/Foreman chapter. It will likely be the last showcasing them. There are about two to three chapters left in this story, and the next ones will be Chase/Cameron focused. Happy reading!

--

The fresh scent of fake rose air freshener hit them in the face as Foreman opened the door. "Oh, how fragrant. It's like we're in a rose garden."

Pamela laughed at his sarcasm. "It's a strange smell for a log cabin. I would have expected fake pine." They dragged their bags into the country room, the wheels from Pamela's bag catching on one of the grooves of the wooden plank floor. With a quick yank, the bag flew forward, pushing it and Pamela forward.

"This is nice," Pamela said, with an uncertain voice, looking around at the place. She had to admit that they went all out with the furniture made of pine logs and dark blue cushions with bears and trees on it. It wasn't until she moved closer that she also saw the bear wearing a hat and the name "Smokey" randomly displayed.

Foreman smiled at the full height rock fireplace. Exactly what he requested. There was even firewood stacked there, and some starter logs. "We can build a fire."

"A fire? You mean there isn't a switch that turns it on?"

"In the mountains, they burn fires the old fashioned way, with real wood and flames."

"Have you ever built a fire before?"

"Sure, once, in boy scouts."

"You were in boy scouts?"

"Yeah, why does that surprise you?'

"Uh, because I never saw a boy scout in the ghetto. At least one that wasn't going for his automated weapon badge."

Foreman smiled and picked up their bags, retreating to the small bedroom in the back. The bed had an old metal frame, and the thin mattress sagged a lot in the middle. "Cozy," he said to himself, retreating back to the other room.

Pamela stepped in to kitchen. A few of the overhead cabinets were missing doors, and the rest of them had the white paint mostly missing, showing off the grey streaks from the aging wood. The grey slate countertops were chipped here and there, but actually didn't look too bad. "They're certainly going for authentic." She turned on the old and semi rusted faucet, pleased that at least the water came out as hot or cold.

"Hey, a kitchen, pretty cool," Foreman said behind her. Pamela turned around with a big grin, doing her best to not make it look fake. "This place, it's so…rustic."

Foreman came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, so what do you want to do now?"

Pamela shrugged. "Watch some TV?"

"No TV here. The rabbit ears don't work over the mountains."

Pamela nodded, wishing she'd at least loaded some videos on her iPod. Unless the mountains ruined that too. "Okay. How about you and me on the couch then?"

Foreman agreed and they went into the main room, both sinking onto the couch at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled, then looked away, both of their eyes wandering around the room to take in the surroundings. Pamela took in a deep breath and exhaled, followed by Foreman doing the same.

"So, you said your patient is doing much better?" Pamela asked.

"Uh, yeah. Chase should have her discharged by morning."

Pamela nodded and looked away again, crossing her legs to get a little more comfortable. When that position wasn't, she switched legs. The uncomfortable silence hung in the air for another minute.

"What do you think you want to do this weekend?" Foreman asked Pamela.

"I guess we can check with the main office. I'm sure there's some brochures."

"I know I saw a canoe place on the way in. We can do some hiking too."

"I'm open to anything." Pamela wanted to give him credit for trying, but she suddenly wondered why she wanted to come to the mountains. So far they were boring.

They both continued to look around for a few moments in silence. "What I'd give for some board games, or a deck of cards," Pamela said, noticing that they went out of their way to make the place devoid of entertainment.

"I've got Freecell and Bubble Breaker on my phone," Foreman offered, not getting an enthusiastic reaction from his offer.

Pamela buried her head in her hand, smiling over how ridiculous this situation was. "Wow, we're all about the romance." She reached over and fished through her bag, pulling out some papers.

Foreman sighed, for he knew what she was up to. "I see you brought the marriage exercises. You want to do that now?"

"Hell no," Pamela said. "I read through it all again, and it was a bunch of crap. I needed this." She showed him the magazine.

"Cosmo?"

"Honey, you don't need a therapist in this day and age. Cosmo has all the answers. Look at this one." She pointed to the article in question.

"Five ways to reconnect with your spouse?"

"You see, that's all we need."

Foreman couldn't avoid giving his wife a skeptical glare as he flipped through the pages to the article in question. He began reading the list in order. "Schedule a regular date night."

"See it's not so bad. What night would you like to have? Don't say Friday or Saturday either, for that's too typical."

"Uh, how about Tuesday? Nothing happens on Tuesdays."

"Done. Come on, read another one."

Foreman read the next one, not exactly sure what to make of its vagueness. "Be positive."

"Yep, a positive attitude around each other is important. For example, let's take that ugly brown suede jacket of yours. Instead of me saying something like it makes you look like a ferret, I'll bite my tongue and say, 'It brings out the animal in you'." Pamela giggled to show she was kidding, and Foreman laughed along with her a second later. She did have a point.

He pointed to the tacky trinket hanging around her neck. "Okay, that necklace of yours is a testament to bourgeois taste."

"I told you this was easy! What's next?"

Foreman read the next item. "Let things go."

Pamela reached over and kissed him on the cheek. "I forgive you for dumping me in Japan. I still don't know why you did it, but I'm willing to let it slide."

Foreman felt his heart sink into his stomach. "I'm sorry baby. I left because-"

"Shh," Pamela said, holding her finger up to his lips. "I don't need to know. It's behind us. Now move on." She pointed to the magazine as he stared at her, still willing to give an explanation. He gave up and went onto the next item.

This one caused his eyes to pop out. "Buy a Jacuzzi? Huh, this actually makes sense. It says that when couples sit in a Jacuzzi, they sit and share how their day went."

"We'll be getting that quote next week. We should have had one by the pool by now anyway."

Foreman nodded in full agreement, and went onto the last one. "Do something together neither of you have done before?"

Pamela almost jumped with excitement. "This is the fun part. Guess what we're doing tomorrow?"

"What?"

"We're going antiquing."

"Antiquing?" Foreman lowered his head and shook it, trying to get his bearings from the surprise. "Wow, I never saw that one coming."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. With you, I would have expected rock climbing or bungee jumping."

"Do I look like Johnny Knoxville? Stupid stunts aren't my style."

"Why'd you want to come to the mountains then?"

"Because they were here."

Foreman laughed, and then gave his wife a big hug. "Antiquing does sound less dangerous. I have to admit, you're never boring. Forgive me for being such a jerk lately."

"I forgot all about that, remember? We start new right now." Her eyes wandered over his shoulder to the fireplace across the room. "Weren't you gonna build me a fire?"

Foreman released her, smiling over the fact she wasn't going to let that slide. "I believe I did." He got up and went to build the cozy fire that they would sit in front of all evening.

--

"I never thought I'd have so much fun with store owners." Foreman and Pamela walked toward the car, with Foreman carrying a nice floral vase from 1850. It didn't look all that different to him than what he'd get at Walmart for six bucks, but Pamela liked it, so it was theirs.

"I can't believe there's still people who get all tense and suspicious when a black person walks in. Did he think I was going to lift one of his precious pieces of junk?" Pamela said.

Foreman laughed. "I know, imagine his surprise when we actually bought something nice and the credit card went through."

"I might go back and blow his mind some more later. How about we go in there, start playing with his stuff, and go all tough on him if he objects?"

"I think that might result in a call to the cops." They got to the car and Foreman loaded their purchase into the trunk, and then shut it.

Pamela rubbed her hands in delight. "Okay, now it's time for our contest. We go in that store and the person to find the tackiest antique wins."

Foreman folded his arms. "Why do I think you have an edge on me in this category?"

"Because you are a wise man."

Foreman held out his elbow, and they walked arm in arm into the next store, the musty odor of the place hitting them in the face.

"Oh, this place smells like death," Pamela joked. She wandered to the right, finding so many bad looking items it was hard to pick which was actually the best in the worst category. She had to constantly remind herself there was a line between tacky and ugly.

Foreman went in the opposite direction, and spotted his item right away. Good thing too, for he didn't think he could take too much of this junked up place, smell and all. He chuckled to himself as he held it in his hand. He was so winning this. He took the antique up to the counter and paid for it. "Can I have that in a bag?" He asked.

Pamela continued to rummage through the selection, determined to find that one thing that stood out from all the rest. Finally, she spotted it. She went to the register with her purchase, and found Foreman standing there with whatever he picked behind his back, looking all casual and pleased with himself. Pamela hid her item behind her back. "You're going down Cochise," she said, sporting a similar grin.

"We'll see about that. I'll be waiting outside." Pamela waited until he was out of sight to put the delightfully tacky object on the counter.

"That'll be three hundred dollars." The man said.

"For that? It's hideous."

The shop owner looked confused. "Why do you-?"

"Oh never mind. Why is it so expensive?"

"It's from early 19th century England. Hand carved in walnut."

"For that price, it should be carved in gold. I'll give you 100."

"That's too low."

"Look at the dust on this thing. It's obviously been here a while. I don't care if it's early British. They obviously had some crappy taste back then."

The man frowned, but accepted her point. "150."

"Sold," Pamela said, handing him her credit card.

--

After both Pamela and Foreman cleverly concealed their purchases for mutual revealing later, they decided it was time for dinner. "Looking at crap all day builds up an appetite, doesn't it?" Pamela asked as they walked down the sidewalk through the charming village. She couldn't remember the last time she had so much fun in an afternoon. The atmosphere was rubbing off on her.

"It most certainly does," Foreman replied.

When they turned around the corner, Pamela froze, with Foreman taking a few more steps before he realized his wife wasn't with him. He turned back around. "What?"

Pamela's face was gleaming in awe. She pointed her head toward the nearby box. Foreman stepped closer, and peeked inside. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"Eric, they're puppies."

Foreman looked more attentively at his wife. "Oh, you're not thinking-"

Pamela stepped up to the woman and young girl near the box. "Are these Golden Retrievers?"

"Yep. Eight weeks old and dying for a home," the girl said.

Pamela reached down in the box to pet the sleeping dogs. There were four of them, all curled up on top of one another. "They're being so good."

"That's because they wore themselves out. You should have seen them earlier," the woman said.

Foreman wanted to drag his wife away, but he knew any such attempt would result in his attempted homicide. He had to admit, they were kind of cute.

"I had a Golden Retriever growing up. You can't get a more lovable dog." She looked at Foreman's uncertain stare. He was trying to play along, but was having trouble. "Did you ever have a pet growing up? Goldfish don't count."

"I didn't have that either."

While they were looking right at the dogs, one of them sat up, yawned with a tiny little squeak, and then opened his dark puppy dog eyes, giving them one of the most adorable stares either had ever seen. Foreman reached out and gave the animal a pet on his head. "He's a nice dog."

"Nice?" Pamela picked him up and cradled him into her arms. He instantly took to her, nuzzling his chin over her shoulder, continuing his heart breaking stare with those dark eyes. Foreman watched Pamela, and knew that look. She was in love.

Foreman sighed and accepted he wasn't going to win this. "How much for the puppy?" He asked the woman.

"50," she replied, smiling over how easily Pamela had bonded with the pup.

Foreman reached into his wallet and pulled out a fifty. "Really, we can keep him?" Pamela asked.

"He's got good taste in women. That should be my kind of dog." He handed the money to the woman, and the transaction was done. They walked down the street, with Foreman guiding Pamela, who couldn't take her eyes off the young pup.

"I want to call him Rocco."

Foreman reached over and scratched the little guy's chin. He stretched his neck up and closed his eyes, eating up all the attention. "He looks like a Rocco."

Pamela stopped, as a quick flash of reality set in. "Wait a second, this is getting serious. We're dog owners now. That's going to require some responsibility and commitment on our part."

Foreman smiled. "Yeah, I know."

"You sure, you're ready for this?"

Foreman looked into her eyes and saw how much this dog meant to her. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I'm sure."

--

"I've never seen anything more precious," Pamela said, sitting on the floor while dangling a rope toy just above Rocco's jumping distance. He jumped and tried to bite it, but it stayed just a little beyond reach. He let out a high pitched "yip!", and jumped up again, those eyes fixated on his prize.

Foreman was on the couch, watching the two of them. He was just as enamored with her as the dog. He was feeling pretty lucky that they were able to find a pet store nearby and get needed supplies. For a cheap dog, Rocco cost them a mint at the pet store. Foreman noticed the pup come over and sit by his feet while he finished his piece of pizza.

"Oh Eric, give him some pizza crust."

"No. I'm not making him a table food dog. Besides, the guy at the pet store warned what happens when you feed puppies something other than their food."

Pamela grimaced. "Yeah, we don't want that type of mess." She watched the dog as he gave up on his food request and moved onto another chew toy. "Thank's Eric, for letting me get him."

"He's not yours. He's ours."

"Seriously?"

Foreman nodded. "Yep."

Pamela got up and took her place next to him on the couch. She gave him a soft, sweet kiss. "I never thought something like this could happen to us."

"What, own a dog?"

"No, share a dog."

Foreman smiled. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Maybe for our next adventure, we can go to puppy training class together."

"It's a date." After taking another long loving look at their new pet, Pamela reached into her purse and pulled out the bad antique from earlier. "For you."

Foreman took the item from her, and unwrapped it. He giggled, looking at the small carved wooden shoe, done in old Georgian style. He remembered seeing them wear shoes like that while watching Amadeus. It had a lid, which when removed revealed the hollowed out inside. "This is the ugliest damn thing I've ever seen. What is it?"

"A snuff box. Pretty bad huh? It's worth 300 bucks, but I talked him down to 150."

"Great, we'll have to take it to Antiques Roadshow next time they're in town. It'll probably turn out to be a huge bust." Foreman went into the other room and retrieved his find. He handed it to her, bag and all.

"For me?" She said, acting all excited. She pulled it out and broke into laughter.

"Oh, it's perfect!" Pamela stared at the old compact, encrusted with turquoise and other cheap jewels, giving it the perfect dollar store look. She opened it to find the place where powder went, all with its unpolished silver glory. "Wow, this is in crappy shape. I love it."

"It's Bohemian style. That must be Austrian for ugly. The guy wanted 100. I pulled out a twenty and told him in firm voice that was all he was getting. I think I scared him."

Pamela laughed. "Oh, I don't think we're going to be welcome in that town again. So, I think you win in the tacky contest."

"Nah," he said admiring the ugliness of what she gave him. "I think it's a draw."

"Fair enough." Just then Rocco came over and sat in front on him, gazing with his puppy dog eyes. He let out a little "yip!" Pamela picked him up and placed him on both their laps. Foreman wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer and the newest member of the family.

"Our baby," Pamela said, cuddling into her husband as well as clutching their new pup.

"Our baby," Foreman said in agreement, petting Rocco on the head. Pamela leaned in and they kissed, both ignoring the "yip!" coming enthusiastically from the dog. He was ready for more love from mom and dad.