He didn't answer. Just watched her with those dark, unreadable eyes, his body still as stone.
"What are you doing on my roof?"
Still nothing. But he gestured with the hammer in his hand toward a section of shingles that had been damaged in last week's storm—shingles she hadn't even noticed were broken.
"You're fixing it," Ivy said slowly, her mind racing. "Without asking. Without telling me. Without even introducing yourself."
Boone's jaw tightened slightly. Then he turned back to his work, dismissing her.
Something hot flared in Ivy's chest—anger mixed with something else, something that felt dangerously like attraction. She'd spent her entire life being dismissed by men. Her father, who'd looked at her and seen only a pretty face to marry off. Preston, who'd treated her like a posse
