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Dr. Cooper casts his partner a glare. “Trained? He spent two years in the past and never set off any of our protocols. He’s far more trained than you are for this.”

Burke scowls. “That’s not the kind of training I meant.”

Thanks to their interactions, I guess there’s some tension between them about who’s really in charge—the knowledgeable professor who’s spent so much time studying the mirrors, or the by-the-book law enforcement official?

“In all likelihood, your kind of training isn’t what we need.” Dr. Cooper turns back to Ben. “We probably only need someone to go and make contact. Gibbons has never had precise control on his jumps—not like Miss Granville.” He sighs and spreads his hands out. “The truth is, we didn’t just come to get information. We came to recruit. The task force could use people of your talents. And finding out that Gibbons has gone rogue expedites our need for it. Mr. Mitchell, you have wealth and connections that would be invaluable to us⁠—”

“Only after 1901,” Ben points out, but I can tell Dr. Cooper’s hit on the right thing to smooth things over, especially in front of know-it-all Burke. Tell Ben how much he’s needed—that’s where he thrives.

“You showed the ability to handle a situation should you have to jump to a time previous to that, and partnered with Miss Granville and her ability to open passages at will, you would be an incredible asset to the task force.”

A glance at Burke tells me he’s biting back his disagreement with our suitability, but the situation must be as important as Dr. Cooper says if he keeps quiet.

“I think you’ve overestimated my ability,” I break in. “It sounds like this mirror has been traveled through a lot lately. It could be… latent, like you said.”

Dr. Cooper shakes his head. “When I took your readings earlier, you gave off large amounts of the energy required to open the passages—and that’s just your base level. Each time you jump, you’ll likely get better at it. Together, neither of you have any worry of getting trapped in the past again if you choose to help us.” He eyes us both and stands, motioning for Burke to do the same. The younger man scowls, opening his mouth to say something, but Dr. Cooper cuts him off. “We’ll let you think about it.” He holds out a card to us. “We’ll be in town. We could use your help figuring this out. We have no other way to contact Gibbons and find out what’s going on.”

“Coop…” Burke interrupts anyway, though he does stand with Dr. Cooper. “We’ve got to get a jump on this.”

Dr. Cooper ignores him. “Call us soon,” he says, heading toward the door. Burke follows after casting us both a you-don’t-really-have-a-choice glare and shuts the door behind them as the two walk out.

Ben and I stare at each other for a long time before I sigh. “Whoa.”

“Exactly.” Shaking his head, he stands and heads back for the kitchen, flipping on a burner and stirring something in one of the pots. By the concentration on his face, the wheels are turning in his brain, but he hasn’t said a thing to me. I push aside the frustration at that. Working together with me is a new thing for him—our relationship is still only a couple of weeks old. The speed of it makes me forget how little we know each other. Besides, for two years, Ben was used to handling everything by himself. He couldn’t talk to anyone else.

But now he needs to know he can. I rest my chin on the back of the couch, watching him as he cooks. “Why don’t they trust Gibbons?”

Ben starts and then nods at me. “A good question. And why did he run away from us in San Francisco if he was supposed to be helping us?”

“Because he’s up to no good.”

“Exactly.”

“So what are we going to do?” When he doesn’t answer right away, I get up from the couch and walk to him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter near him. “What are we going to do?” I ask again.

“It almost sounds fun, doesn’t it?” he says quietly, a tickle of excitement in his voice, which I smile at. “If they’re right about you, why wouldn’t I want to go back and study history while it’s happening?”

“And if they’re wrong? And you end up stuck with me again?” I quirk an eyebrow.

He turns so he can smile at me. “Totally unbearable,” he says in a teasing tone. “Let’s eat.”

I study him, wishing he’d tell me about the worry in his expression instead of glossing over it and covering with a joke, but I don’t know how to approach it. How could I? I haven’t known him long enough to interpret him.

“It looks delicious,” I say instead.

We cuddle on the couch after dinner, not talking about all the things we should be talking about, and instead discussing topics for future blog posts that could showcase the things I’ve learned while in the past.

“So this is what you do?” he asks, and I don’t miss the skepticism in his voice. “Write a blog … and that pays the bills?”

“That and my part-time job at the library. Also, I’ve got my eye on this guy who’s incredibly rich.” I can’t interpret his tone, and maybe I shouldn’t judge him so much for using jokes to cover uncomfortable subjects. A piece of me doesn’t want to hear what he might think about my passion for fashion history.

“Don’t forget the free condo,” he adds.

“Yeah, the inheritance doesn’t hurt.” I lean against him. “Someday maybe I’ll get a job working in costume design on movies or something … or I’ll get to travel and write about historical fashion in museums like the Victoria and Albert in London. But for now, this is good.”

“Thanks to your sugar daddy,” he teases.

“And the decent inheritance,” I remind him. Ben doesn’t actually pay any of my bills. I smile at his flirting. I’m grateful we get to have as normal a relationship as possible right now, instead of the forced marriage we talked about before.