Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 281(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“Always.” Atlas grinned at me, cheek and chin dimples on full display, and the boyish enthusiasm had me reconsidering my plan to offer him my impressive assortment of cereal choices.
“How about eggs?”
“Sounds good. Love a hot breakfast.” The sparkle in his eyes made my skin heat and made me glad I’d changed from the cereal plan. Atlas frowned at his duffel bag, which he’d set in the corner of my room. “Any chance of me running a quick load of laundry before breakfast?”
“Yeah. The washing machine and dryer are in the basement of the building.” I grabbed a jar of change off my dresser. “You’ll need quarters.”
“Seriously?” Atlas tilted his head. Most laundry facilities seemed to have transitioned to cards, but this creaky building had laundry facilities that hadn’t been updated in decades.
“Yep. Old school all the way.” As I passed him a handful of quarters, our fingers brushed. His hands, like the rest of him, were big and strong. Wide palms, warm skin, long fingers. I wanted them everywhere, and it would be fine with me if Atlas never did laundry again. Reluctantly, I released him to point at the door at the end of my short hallway that led to the basement. “It’s cold down there, so take your coat.”
“I’ll be fine.” Atlas scoffed in the way macho dudes always did, and I wasn’t surprised when he reappeared shivering a few minutes later as I was working on breakfast.
“Okay, you weren’t lying.” Standing beside me at the stove, he rubbed his hands together and stamped his bare feet. He stood way too close and wasn’t likely to get much warmth off the gas stove, but who was I to turn down a chance to bask in Atlas’s nearness. “Cold as fuck down there.”
“I have coffee.” I brushed by him, working double time to not happy sigh from the contact. Retrieving a cup, I pointed at the just-brewed pot.
Atlas made a pleasured moan that was likely illegal in ten states. “My kind of man.”
I wish. I wasn’t sure Atlas had a type of man, but if he did, short and stout gamer guys were unlikely to be on the list.
“There’s toast and sausages too.” I plated the eggs next to the toast and the turkey sausages I’d found in my freezer.
“I feel spoiled.” Atlas took a seat opposite me at my way-too-small dining table. Since I needed as much space as possible for electronics equipment, I’d opted for a teeny wooden table and chair set. It wasn’t like I had that many guests. Or any guests. But I hadn’t considered my knees brushing Atlas’s legs or our hands almost touching as we ate.
“You deserve it,” I said without thinking, the fond tone better suited to mornings after and not strictly platonic friends of my brother’s. Oops. I took a quick swig of coffee before backtracking. “Because of all you do in the navy. You’re always helping…”
“I got your meaning.” Atlas smiled at me over his coffee cup. He was so effortlessly easygoing that his affable nature made it impossible for things to stay awkward, even given the close quarters of the tiny dining area.
After breakfast, Atlas quickly rotated his laundry, this time opting to wear his jacket plus my over-stretched T-shirt.
“What’s the dress code today?” he asked as he returned to stand behind my desk, where I was sneaking a quick check of my email. Once again, he was too close, and once again, I was hardly going to complain. He rested a hand on the back of my chair, and it took most of my self-restraint to not stretch toward his fingers. “Please tell me it’s not another penguin suit day?”
“Nope.” I chortled along with Atlas because I also hated the standard food service attire of a white dress shirt and black pants. “Today is jeans or whatever you want on bottom. And then, on top, Paige ordered these elf T-shirts for us to wear when working in the gift shop. I think she sent over the right size for you.” I fetched the shirts from a bag in my hall closet. I changed in my room while Atlas took his shirt to the bathroom.
It didn’t matter what size shirt Atlas wore. He looked edible in everything from camo to my old shirt to this silly green cotton T-shirt, which looked like an elf’s costume from the front while the back proclaimed: Have a Holly Jolly Holiday at Seasons. He’d paired the red-and-green shirt with black tactical pants, which should have looked ridiculous but instead made me want to climb his North Pole right then and there.
“I feel silly.” Forehead wrinkling, he looked down at the shirt. He must have taken a moment to shave because his jaw was smooth. I wanted to touch so badly that my fingers kept clenching.