Dragging his hand through his hair, he groaned when he passed over the bandage, then glanced at the stranger sitting at the head of his bed.

For a moment he looked at the girl as if part of his dream had decided to come alive. In the cloudy daylight she looked more like a vision than a real person.

Faraway lightning flashed across the huge windows and reflected as she opened her green eyes. Rainy-day green, he thought. Beautiful eyes looked at him, and he knew she’d been watching over him.

Then he remembered her name. Tuesday Raine, the waitress from the bar. She had walked him home and she’d apparently stayed.

The phone rang again. He ignored it.

“Anyone ever tell you that your name is a weather forecast?”

She rolled those jade eyes and didn’t bother to answer.

For no reason at all, he smiled.

In the shadowed light, she was prettier than he remembered. No makeup on now. Her hair pulling loose from the ponytail. Her clothes wrinkled and spotted with blood. Her sad stare seemed bottomless.

The phone rang for the third time.

He grabbed it and sat up. “Morning, Professor,” Ketch said as he noticed the caller ID.

“Good afternoon. I hoped you’d be home. Not much roofing happening during thunderstorms.”

“Thanks for calling in the weather report, Professor.” Ketch sat up and fought down the urge to swear. He liked his chemistry teacher, but he didn’t feel much like talking. “Can I help you with something?”

“I’m calling to ask if you’re interested in helping with research for a project I’m working on. Pays twenty an hour and it will look good on a job application after you graduate. I’m working with Miss Clark in biology, so this could mean two letters of recommendation in your file.”

Ketch lost interest in the conversation as he watched the girl stand, stretch, and walk to the bathroom. She’d spent the night, probably to make sure he didn’t fall out of bed. He seemed to have developed a habit of toppling over.

He pulled himself back to the phone conversation. “This research have anything to do with construction?” Ketch had helped the professor with two projects on his little farm. The guy might be a solid teacher, but he was worthless with power tools.

“No, but it pays good. Probably take about ten hours a week from now to graduation.”

Ketch took a deep breath. He’d make twice that in construction, but this would be something different, and most of the Randall projects were waiting on lumber. The brothers wouldn’t mind if he took a few days off.

“I’ll take it.” He’d been carrying a full load of classes, working thirty hours a week, but right now giving up all free time seemed like a good idea. “Sleep is overrated anyway.”