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“That’s already a no-parking zone.”

He glanced over at me, his brows lifted like he was surprised.

I smiled. “I do occasionally know what I’m doing.”

“Never said you didn’t.”

I looked up from the tablet. He meant it. There was no teasing in his face, no surprise that I could do my job. It was nice not having to prove myself.

When I closed the site plan, we were standing by the arena fence with most of the grounds behind us.

“I have something else for you. The video. I finished it last night.” I pulled out my phone. “I haven’t sent it to anyone else yet.”

His gaze settled on the screen, but he didn’t reach for the phone. My whole campaign was this man’s hands and two horses. What was I supposed to do if he hated it? Recast him?

I opened the clip.

Hank’s hooves crossed packed dirt. Harness leather filled the frame, then Beau’s hands working a buckle. Then his voice.

“You can’t out-muscle two tons. You get clear about what you’re asking and don’t ask for something you don’t mean.”

The video ended on Hank and Gus hitched in front of the Jordan wagon.

Beau didn’t say anything. I started it again and handed him the phone. He watched closer the second time, and he wasn’t watching the horses. He was watching the edges. He paused once when his shoulder almost came into the frame, and again when the angle changed while he worked with Gus.

When the clip ended, he gave the phone back. “You kept me out of it.”

“Your hands and voice are in it.”

“You know what I mean. You could’ve gotten my face in a couple of those shots.”

“Yes.”

“It probably would’ve played better.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

His eyes stayed on mine. “But you didn’t.”

“You said no.”

He looked at me for a long time. “You could’ve gotten what you wanted anyway.”

I slid the phone into my pocket. “Not if you didn’t want me to.”

The wind had picked up, cold enough that I tucked my hands deeper into my jacket pockets. Beau looked past me toward the arena, his jaw tightening before he spoke. “I’ve had somebody decide my no didn’t matter before.”

He didn’t say who or when, and I didn’t ask. Whatever had happened, it explained the way he’d watched the video twice, checking every edge of the frame before he gave it back.

“Then they were wrong.”

His gaze came back to mine and stayed there for a few seconds. Then he nodded toward my pocket. “The video’s good.”

“That sounded painful.”

“Don’t push it.”

I pulled my phone halfway out of my pocket. “Can I use it?”