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I believed her. “Okay.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

I walked her to the SUV. She opened her door and rested one hand on the roof.

“Thanks for letting me come out. And for what it’s worth, you were right about letting you work. The footage is better this way.” She climbed in and started the engine. “I’ll have the video ready tomorrow.”

I stepped back, and she gave me a quick wave through the windshield before she headed down the drive.

I stayed there until she cleared the bend.

She had half an hour of me on her phone, and I’d gone along with it without thinking twice. I was still living down the last time I let somebody point a camera at me.

She’d said she’d send it to me first. I’d believed her.

The last thing I needed was to be wrong about a woman twice.

CHAPTER 4

CAROLINE

The rodeo grounds looked almost empty, which made it easier to see all the ways they could go wrong.

I stood near the main entrance with my site plan open on my tablet. In two weeks, this stretch of dirt had to handle food trucks, vendors, a parade, and enough parked cars to make everybody regret showing up at the same time. Right now it was orange paint on the ground and three traffic cones Orville had borrowed from somewhere. I’d learned not to ask about Orville’s supplies.

“Six will fit,” he said.

He stood next to me with his hands on his hips, studying the row I’d marked along the fence for food trucks.

“Four will fit.”

“Six if we tighten them up.”

“Six if none of the vendors need to open their doors, unload supplies, or serve customers.”

Orville looked at the space again. “Five?”

“Four.”

He sighed like I was personally ruining his festival.

“This is why you hired me.”

A smile broke through. “Ruby hired you.”

“Ruby recommended me. You signed the contract. You’ll appreciate me when nobody gets run over trying to buy a funnel cake.”

He laughed and headed for the parking area, where he’d decided we could fit another row of cars if everybody parked with military precision. I let him go. I’d fight that one tomorrow.

The parade staging area was the one piece I hadn’t finalized. That belonged to Beau. I’d marked out what looked reasonable to me, but that could change when two Clydesdales and a freight wagon were involved. Beau had made that clear without making me feel stupid for not knowing it. He explained what mattered and expected me to listen.

The wagon step had been a small exception, and my hip still remembered how that ended. So did the rest of me. I’d sat up last night editing a thirty-two-second clip of his hands, and then I’d watched it over and over again until I couldn’t keep my eyes open. What did that say about me?

“Caroline?”

Rachel Grable headed my way with a flat box and a folder tucked under one arm.

She set everything on a picnic table near the arena entrance. “These are the ones I think could work for your heritage display without turning it into a full-fledged history of why the Kincaids and Hollisters have spent a century making each other miserable.”