He leaned against the counter beside the register, his massive frame a silent promise that nobody else would try anything stupid. The shop seemed to exhale. Conversations resumed, though quieter than before, more thoughtful. People kept glancing at Boone, then at Ivy, then back again—reassessing, understanding, spreading the word through that invisible network of small-town gossip.
The Granger boy is here.
He's watching her.
Lord have mercy, he's claimed her.
By mid-morning, the shop was packed again. Not just with the usual Saturday crowd, but with people who'd heard that Boone Granger was at The Briar Patch. They came in for coffee and pastries and stayed to watch—though there was no show. Just Boone, steady and present, occasionally catching Ivy's eye across the counter.
She made d
