Two extra bright lights flew at them, rumbling like an angry beast. She cried out and buried her face in his chest. His torso shook with laughter while he stroked her back. She smelled something on his skin, beyond the pungent pig manure on her dress. It was a musky masculine scent, and she enjoyed it very much. She was terrified of wherever she was but confident she was safe in his arms.
"It's just a car. It won't hurt you if you aren't in front of it. Come with me. My apartment is just around the corner."
Verity held herself glued to his side while they walked along a hard path between patches of grass. Trees lined their way. Where were they? She didn't recognize anything, and she didn't remember making a trip.
Jaime Perez had hunted her down inside her own home. Found her in her hiding place. Dragged her out to the living room by her hair. She'd fought enough to keep him from whisking her away to whatever hell awaited her, but Mathew had rescued her. Verity shivered at the thought of what Jaime had planned for her. She only hoped to never see him again.
Mathew's arm hugged her shoulders tight and his hand rubbed her upper arm. "Cold?"
"Just a little."
"My place is right here. It's not much, and I wasn't expecting visitors, so pardon the mess." They crossed the grass into an open space where sparse orange lights dotted an open lot. A two-story brick building stood before them. Some windows were lit and others dark. This place was huge! He was rich. She'd never seen any building like this before. He unlocked the front door and led them down the hallway. Two pearly cubes sat in the open space.
"What are those?" she asked, pointing.
"Washer and dryer. They save a lot of laundry time."
Verity smiled. She didn't know how they worked, but laundry was a bane in her life. This strange city sure was fascinating. "You'll need to show me how to use them."
Mathew gave her sad smile, and she cast her eyes aside. Perhaps she could not assume she'd get to stay. Verity followed him up the stairs, and he unlocked another door.
"This is me." He opened it wide, and light bathed the whole room at the sound of a click. She stepped inside and wandered around, marveling at the strange living quarters. Couch, coffee table, kitchen table, those were familiar. Wash basin, kitchen counter, familiar but much fancier than hers. The rugs underfoot extended through the whole room. How extravagant! In the kitchen she found more pearly cubes. She pointed. "Washer and dryer?"
"Dishwasher, stove slash oven, and refrigerator. You are a fascinating woman."
Her cheeks heated with the praise. The descriptors she had heard were never so flattering.
"Hungry?" he asked.
She shook her head. She had finished her dinner before Jaime showed up, and her stomach wasn't ready for food after that journey. Thinking of journey..."Where are we?"
Mathew prowled through the house and took a small black thing off a table. It lit up bright in his hands. He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. "I think you should sit."
Verity adjusted her petticoat and sat on the couch, surprised at how soft it was. "This is nice."
"Nice piece of crap, you mean."
"Huh?"
"Nothing. Listen." Mathew sat in the matching cushioned chair next to the couch. "I don't know how to say this, but you're in Green Bay."
"The city you're from?"
"Yeah."
"But how did I get here? I don't even know where here is."
Mathew lit the little black thing again, and his fingers made quick work on it. He showed it to her. It was a map.
"I recognize that." She touched the spot on the map where she lived. "Astor." Words popped up, blocking most of the map. "Something's wrong with it."
Mathew relocated next to her. "The newspaper at your house, you remember the year?"
"Yeah, now you're speaking silly. It's 1853."
Mathew touched the black thing a few times, sliding, tapping and sliding. He held the image to her. "Read this date. It's a news story from today."
"July twenty-third...What?" Verity stood. "That's impossible."
"You're telling me," he agreed. Mathew stood and paced, speaking rapidly as if panic reared its head. "Where is Kiko? I need to get you back home. I was helping my sister's roommate with a dream project, which turned out to be a lie. I still haven't found Verity, so I guess I failed again. Kiko gave me this." He stopped pacing and held out a small trinket. "And I pressed it before Jaime blew us away. Now you're here. I'm glad it worked, otherwise we'd be dead, but you don't belong here, and I don't even know your name. Your husband will be worried sick."
"Husband?" Verity wasn't married. No one would marry her. There was a reason her brother was so frustrated with her, and why she wanted to run away to California.
"The man with the trigger finger, Johnny, isn't your husband?"
She laughed. It was the most, no second most, ridiculous thing she'd heard today. "Brother."
Mathew sighed and smiled, softening his features and bearing straight white teeth. He looked like a hundred thousand dollars.
"I'm glad I don't have to worry about a pissed off husband coming after me. Well, a pissed off brother is just as bad, I suppose." He paused and stared off. "Yeah, just as bad." His hands balled to fists. She wondered what bothered him about her brother so much.
He picked up the black thing again and pressed it and slid his finger on it. "Just one second, okay? I have to make a call."
She heard a ringing come from the thing and she sat still, uncertain of what a call was.
"Come on, Kiko. Pick up." It rang and rang. Mathew pressed on it, and the ringing stopped. "She's not answering. It's late. I'll show you where you can sleep. I'll take the couch."
How was she supposed to sleep when she was in a different time, far away from the land she knew? It was exactly what she wanted. Excitement bubbled in her veins.
***
MATHEW GROANED WHILE he woke from the most insane dream of his life. It was impossible. Light broke through his patio door and blinded him. He remembered an intimidating and assertive woman with wild hair, green eyes, and beautiful freckles, and his aching morning hard-on reminded him how long it'd been since he'd gotten laid. Way too long. He debated for far longer than usual about what to do next—coffee or relief.
He sat up and adjusted himself and realized he was on the couch—the same place where Kiko had left him yesterday. Was Kiko even here? Too many drug fumes at work—they were messing with his head. Perhaps he would have Kiko or Becca fill the prescriptions from now on. He rubbed a palm between his brows and stood for a stretch. The smartphone on the coffee table told him he would be late opening the clinic.
He turned on the coffee pot, then turned it off. It would have to wait until he got to the office. He went to his closet and grabbed dress clothes and brought them to the bathroom. In the mirror he found mud caked on his face and on the chest of his shirt. He turned around and his pants had dirt stains on them that reeked like...pig manure.
He ran back into his bedroom and found the dream woman in his bed.
Holy goddamned shit.