She leaned so close her nose almost touched his. “Because you told me you didn’t want to be alone and I know how that feels. I felt sorry for you.”

For a moment he just stared. Ashamed of his weakness and fascinated that she’d listened. He couldn’t deny hating to be alone. He could say that he was drunk or kidding, but they both knew the truth. He had said the words real enough to make her care.

“Thanks for staying,” he finally said, his tone low and honest.

Surprise flashed in her eyes. “You’re welcome.”

He stood, took one glance at his bloody jeans and grabbed a pair of sweats from a shelf. “I’ll walk you out, or drive you home. I seem to remember walking here last night.” He tossed her a clean T-shirt. “I owe you one.”

She took the shirt that had been army issued years ago. As if she didn’t notice he was in the room, she stripped off her bloody shirt and pulled on his. It was so big it hung halfway to her knees.

Ketch closed his eyes, trying to get the picture of her small breasts covered in only blue lace out of his head. She was so small. Almost more girl than woman.

“No need to see me out. I know the way back to the bar.” She lifted a small backpack. “You don’t have a car, so we’d have to walk anyway. No sense both of us getting wet.”

Tuesday almost smiled as she watched him dress. “In case you forgot, you told me you left your pickup at the library. Claimed your truck was smarter than you last night.”

“Right.” He wasn’t just an idiot; he’d been a drunken idiot.

She looked so young in her jeans and his T-shirt that she’d knotted just above her waist. “How did you manage to get me up the stairs, Tuesday?”

“It wasn’t easy. You leaned over the railing a few times and kept mentioning how you didn’t want to think about someone named Crystal.” She shrugged. “I’m guessing she is your ex.”

“Correct.” Anger washed over his mind, riding a headache. “My fiancée sent me a letter. Damn, that was cold.” He scratched his hair, then yelped in pain. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know. You told me several times last night in your sleep.” She turned. “So long, Ketch. Have a good life.”

“Wait. I can borrow one of the work trucks downstairs. I’d really like to drive you home. No one will be working today, so the trucks are just sitting there. We could stop for coffee. Or maybe lunch.”