Read Online Stranger in Cold Creek by Paula Graves - Free Book Online

him made him squint.
    The voice belonged to the bleary-eyed redhead curled up in an armchair next to his, gazing at him with a faint smile on her pale lips. “You told me if you fell asleep to wake you by six.”
    Right. The stakeout. The deputy with the head injury had managed to stay awake, but he’d drifted off like an old man.
    He stretched, grimacing at the ache in his bones. “I take it nobody wandered into your crime scene?”
    She slanted a sheepish look at him. “I might have dozed off an hour or so just before dawn.”
    â€œI don’t think he planned to come back. He didn’t spot whatever he was looking for, so he left.”
    â€œYou don’t think it’s because he spotted you watching him?”
    â€œ I don’t think he could have seen me.” John stretched carefully, all too cognizant of the limitations of his recovery. The collarbone fracture had mended, but too violent an arm or shoulder movement could still make his nerves jangle. The other injuries to his side and the muscles over his hip were going to be painful for a while, but it was a dull ache that usually went away after the muscles warmed up.
    â€œWhat kind of injuries did you have?” Miranda had turned in the armchair until she faced him, her long limbs tucked up under her and the blanket wrapped warmly around her. In the rosy light of morning, her sleepy face looked soft and young, giving her a delicate beauty he wouldn’t have associated with her if he hadn’t seen it for himself.
    â€œFractured clavicle and some muscle damage in my side,” he answered vaguely.
    â€œYou said it wasn’t an accident.”
    â€œNo.”
    Her auburn eyebrows notched upward. “Okay.”
    Great. He’d just made her more curious, not less. “Actually, a hunting injury.” And it was true, in a way.
    â€œDeer?”
    â€œNo.”
    This time, her lips quirked with amused frustration. “I never could manage to enjoy hunting. I mean, I get the point of it from a conservation standpoint, and I like venison stew as much as the next person—”
    He had to put her out of her misery. “Actually, I wasn’t the one doing the hunting.”
    Her brow crinkled, but before she could say anything, her phone rang. She dug it from the pocket of her jeans and grimaced before answering. “Hi, Dad. Yes, I’m still here.” She slanted a quick look at John. “I know, but—”
    John walked away to give her a little privacy, but the room wasn’t big enough to avoid hearing her end of what was clearly a paternal lecture. With a heavy sigh she sank deeper into the chair where she’d passed the night and settled in to listen.
    John headed for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. While he was waiting for the coffeemaker to finish, he searched his refrigerator for something that might pass for breakfast. He usually made do with coffee alone, but he’d bought a dozen eggs earlier in the week. He could make omelets. Every guy with any self-respect could make an omelet, right?
    He had the eggs sizzling nicely in a skillet by the time Miranda wandered into the kitchen. “Hungry?”
    She gave him an odd look but admitted she was. “May I help myself to the coffee?”
    He waved his hand at the pot, and she poured a cup, stirring in a packet of sweetener from a jar sitting next to the pot. “Want a cup?” she asked as she stirred her own and gave it a sip.
    â€œBlack. One sweetener.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “What do you know? The way you like yours.”
    She smiled and made him a matching cup of coffee. “You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”
    â€œI was hungry,” he said and decided it wasn’t exactly a lie. He was hungry, and she didn’t need to know that if she wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have bothered cooking. “Your dad wasn’t happy about your disobeying