Atlas relaxed. “The longer you leave these things, the worse they fester.”

“I know. Just not tonight. C-could I stay with you?”

He gazed at her for a while, smoothing a wispy piece of her hair back in place, before nodding. “Do you need me to carry you, too?”

Romy laughed and shoved him.

He echoed the sound and grabbed her by the hand, leading her through the back of the offices. They passed out of the building down the hospital end. Romy didn’t know anyone lived out back here and she said as much to him.

“Just me and Houston,” was the short reply.

It made her nervous for some reason, or perhaps it was the fact she’d just realised she’d be alone with Atlas for an entire night.

Atlas paused at the door. “Nothing will be happening here except sleep.”

Something inside Romy relaxed. “Good.”

Atlas grimaced at the relief in her voice. “That could make a lesser man doubt himself.”

She grinned. “Sorry.”

The inside of the small bungalow was as tidy as his office. Nothing like their knot bungalow, which had clothing strewn everywhere—thanks to Elara. It was nondescript. A single bunk. A basin. A set of drawers and a closet. All encased in the log cabin.

The bed didn’t look very big. “Will we both fit in that?” she asked, slipping off her shoes.

Atlas was digging through his drawers.

“I can sleep on the floor.”

Romy eyed the floorboards. “You want to?”

“That would be a no.”

“Then why suggest it?”

Atlas tossed her a T-shirt. “My mistake.” The half-smile appeared and remained as they looked at each other.

He pointed at the shirt in her hands. “I’ll leave while you change. I can’t sleep next to you in that dress.”

Romy looked down at Freya’s dress. She didn’t see that much difference between the dress and the shirt. Maybe Atlas’s clothing would be a little looser.

Atlas stepped outside and she tore the dress over her head, replacing it with the T-shirt—heart racing in case he came back inside.

He entered as she was placing the folded garment on top of his drawers. A muffled sound drew her attention. Atlas was staring at her as though he’d never seen Romy in his life.

“What is it?”

He closed his eyes and dragged in a breath. “It’s worse, that’s what it is.”

Romy concealed her smile.

Though it slipped off her face a second later when Atlas reached an arm up and drew his shirt over his head. Taut muscles hardened as he twisted to get the shirt off. He was sculpted, the kind that only came from vigorous training. It didn’t correlate with how often he was at his desk. His skin was smooth and there was so much of it to look at, her eyes didn’t know where to start. Warmth flushed through her.