Stranger in Cold Creek by Paula Graves Page A

come close to killing her only two days ago. And someone had thoroughly searched her house with ruthless abandon—possibly the same person.
    If they hadn’t found what they were looking for—and how would she know, since she had no idea what that was—they might keep coming back.
    So having her own personal bodyguard wasn’t the dumbest idea she’d ever heard, she supposed.
    â€œTell you what. I’ll give it some thought in the shower.” She darted back into the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it for a moment to calm her twitchy nerves.
    If being around John Blake left her this shaky after two days, what condition would she be in if he stuck around longer?
    But maybe she should stop considering the question as a woman and start thinking about it with the instincts of a cop. John Blake was one big walking enigma who’d come into her life shortly before someone attempted to end it. Maybe that was a coincidence.
    But what if it wasn’t?
    She pondered the thought while she showered, coming to the conclusion by the time she stepped out of the shower that John couldn’t be the person who wanted to do her harm. She was pretty sure the accident happening in front of his house had been pure happenstance. And while there was a window of time when he could have tossed her house, it was a very narrow window.
    He’d have had to rush over to her house as soon as Miles Randall drove her to the clinic for treatment, because the mess in her house hadn’t been created in a short period of time.
    She checked that the hallway was empty before scooting across to her bedroom, wrapped in the now-damp towel. After dressing quickly, she headed into the living room, where she found John folding up the bedding she’d provided for him the night before.
    He looked up and flashed a smile that made her stomach turn a little flip. “Hey. Did you give my proposition any thought while you were in the shower?”
    It was all she’d thought about. She’d spent the whole time under the hot spray weighing the pros and cons of taking him up on his offer.
    So what if he was still a bit of a mystery? He’d been nothing but helpful to her so far, and she had no reason to think that whatever he might be hiding was any danger to her. On the upside, he was apparently a good enough carpenter to get a job with a company as big as Blanchard Building. He was also pretty good to have around in a crisis.
    And did it matter if she found him attractive and intriguing? She was single. So was he, according to the background check she’d run. And if she went forward without any illusions about some sort of romantic happily-ever-after, who would get hurt?
    â€œI could use the help,” she said.
    His grin spread wider. “Great. So why don’t we go take a look and let me catch up on what you want done?”
    â€œSlow down, tiger. How about we go find breakfast first?” Her kitchen was a useless mess, but the plumber she’d called the previous afternoon had told her he couldn’t come until this afternoon. “There’s a diner in town that serves an old-fashioned country breakfast, if that’s your thing.”
    â€œIt’s my thing,” he said with a smile. “Now and then, anyway.”
    * * *
    S HE SHOULD HAVE known better than to try to dine in at Creekside Diner, because everybody there had heard not only about her wreck, but also about the mess an intruder had made of her house. Between the hushed questions from the wide-eyed waitress and the incessant whispers of the less brave diner patrons, Miranda felt as if she was having breakfast in a fish tank, with everyone watching the show.
    â€œSmall towns,” John said with a shrug when she apologized later in the truck, speaking as if from experience.
    â€œWe should probably stop by the hardware store,” she said as he started to turn back toward Route 7. “To tell my dad