"I understand. These days the average marrying age for women is twenty-seven." Her eyes darted to him with annoyance. "Sorry. Continue."
"After a lack of mutual interest between Bernard and I, and I refused to try again, my parents threatened a contract on me. I ran. As it was my first time outside the home, I…I got scared and went back. Shortly thereafter they died, and I was determined to make my own life with no one to stop me. For months I bounced from place to place, hitching rides where I could, scraping money where I found it, and one day in Greenleaf, I ran into a person I wish I'd never met."
Mathew was impressed she survived independently for months in that lawless time.
"Order up." The server brought a large round cast iron pan. He set down a hotplate and settled the pizza on top. He sliced the pie in front of them and asked if they wanted anything else.
"Two waters please," Mathew asked.
The server dipped his head with a smile and left. Mathew split the stack of plates and served a slice to them both. "Give it a minute so you don't burn the roof of your mouth."
"There was a bar there," she continued. "It was the only one for many miles. Travelers and drifters passed through and never returned, so the crowd on average was less than courteous, understand?"
Mathew nodded. He didn't like where this story was headed. While he waited for the pizza to cool, his hands balled into fists.
"I was minding my business, and a man wanted more than I was willing to give him. Jaime Perez. You met him at my house. I refused him and he took me to a back room. Are you all right?"
Mathew heard snarling and realized it came from his throat. He needed to calm down. It was a story, an old story, and Jaime Perez would never reach Verity again, he would see to it.
"Just fine."
"Here's your water." The server brought two chilled mugs of water and set them on the table. "How is your pizza?" He frowned at the untouched pie.
"Too hot, but we'll be digging in momentarily. Thank you."
"Great, just let me know if you need anything else."
"Thanks."
When the server left, Verity continued her rage-inducing tale. "He demanded I dance for him. I refused. He demanded..." she trailed off and her eyes glazed over as if trapped inside painful memories. "He demanded other things, and I refused again. He used his belt against me, and I turned against him—disfigured him, but I got away, and he's angry."
Mathew's gut took a well-earned sock. He was such an asshole. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for saying punishing you was reasonable. I was wrong and out of line. Please forgive me."
Her eyes cast aside for just a flicker. He picked up his warm slice and dug in with a moan. It was cheesy Italian seasoned doughy softness. Pure amazing.
Verity copied his move, and she nodded and murmured in agreement. "It's delicious. Wonderfully delightful."
"I'm glad you like it."
The visual of her tale unleashed a fury he had buried since the days his father had wrongfully punished him. Mathew fought his hands from fisting and slamming the table. He pictured Jaime Perez's snarl overlaying his father's. When he returned her to her rightful time, he promised himself Jaime Perez would never get his hands on her again.
***
MATHEW CARRIED ALL her bags upstairs, unlocked the door to his apartment, and set them on the couch. She was very excited to explore her new clothes. Verity didn't know how she would repay him for his kindness. She didn't have any money. She didn't have a job...or did she? Verity decided to help in Mathew's clinic to pay off the debt. Brilliant.
Mathew placed the meal leftovers inside one of the pearly cubes in the kitchen, the refrigerator or something like that. He tried to explain them all, but which one was which, and which one did what? She'd get it, eventually.
"Did you want a shower right away or how about a movie?"
"Shower?"
"It's like a bath, only you stand and hot water rains down on you."
"That sounds heavenly."
"Shower it is."
She followed Mathew into the washroom and admired the bathtub. It had been several days since she'd gotten to wash up, and an indoor rain of hot water sounded impossible. But so many things impossible to her were normal everyday things to these people. He leaned over the tub and turned a knob. Water poured in through a spigot. His hand rested inside the downpour and he said, "It'll be a minute before it heats up."
He shook the water off his hand and stalked up to her with fire in his eyes. Heat roared through her body. She wanted him so much it hurt. "I'll help you remove your new clothes, if you'd like."
"Yes, please."
His fingers slipped across the flesh of her lower belly as he tugged the fastener free. Mathew lowered his head and paused. With smoldering eyes, he waited for her response. Verity tilted her head, granting him access to her throat. Hot lips seared against her neck. Fire roared through her body, pooling at her core. Steam billowed around them as if cloaking what they'd planned to do next.
Mathew's mouth licked and sucked down her throat and across her shoulders. With her eyes closed, her body was alive with need not knowing where the next tingle of a kiss would appear. His fingers drew her face toward him, and his lips crashed against hers. She unzipped her jeans and locked her fingers behind his neck, drawing him closer. He moaned and curled into her body. She reached down to grasp his desire and found an erection begging for release. He yelped in surprise and jumped back.
Mathew's eyes drank in her exposed skin and he spun in place.
"I'm sorry. That wasn't…proper." He pointed to soaps sitting on invisible shelves along the bath wall. "Use whatever you need. Fresh towels are here in the cabinet. Turn the knob all the way when you're finished." He stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Verity stood there in confusion while steam blotted out the looking glass. What did she do wrong? He was enjoying himself, as was she. Did he think she was unclean? Well, of course, he did. She probably smelled like a compost heap, having not cleaned since sinking into the pig's muck when Mathew first tried to rescue her from Jonathan.
Verity finished undressing and stepped into the steamy rain. All the muscles in her body eased, and she struggled to stay standing. How she'd ever lived without this, she couldn't understand. She soaped herself and rinsed. Then mucked the soap into her hair. Rinsing with rain pouring down was so much easier. She turned the knob off, and the rain trickled to a stop. Verity stepped out onto the mat and covered herself in a fluffy towel. What should she wear?
"Mathew?" she called through the door.
He responded so fast it was as if he waited on the other side for her. "Yes?"
"I don't have sleeping garments."
"Hmmm. Didn't think of that. I'll get you a shirt to wear, hang tight."
She waited, using a second towel to pat her hair dry. She found a comb and picked all the knots out. The wild waves were tame just below her shoulders.
An arm popped into the bathroom and she accepted the offering.
"Thank you."
The door closed again, and she dressed herself. It was an oversized men's shirt. Soft, warm, and hung just below her upper thighs. Not modest, but she wasn't prudish in private. It smelled just like Mathew's laundry soap—fresh and airy. Her wet hair dampened the shirt's neckline. She picked up her towels and placed them in the hamper. Then she stepped out, followed by a cloud of steam.