“When?”
Khloe looked down.
“Months ago.”
“How many?”
“Maybe eight.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“Eight months.”
“Yes.”
“And you stayed.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
She looked at him.
There was nowhere left to hide.
“Because by then I loved you.”
Vincent went completely still.
Khloe’s cheeks burned.
She almost laughed from humiliation.
“Terrible timing.”
“Yes.”
She wiped tears angrily.
“I planned to leave after proving you weren’t involved.”
“But?”
“I kept finding reasons not to.”
Vincent’s expression softened despite himself.
“What reasons?”
“Payroll.”
He almost laughed.
“Coward.”
“Yes.”
“Try again.”
Khloe swallowed.
“You.”
Silence.
“Your stupid coffee.”
“I don’t make coffee.”
“Exactly.”
“Mrs. Bell.”
“Roy in the tack room.”
“Wrong ranch.”
Khloe stared.
Vincent smiled faintly.
“You’re thinking of someone else’s story.”
She laughed through tears.
“Sorry.”
“Continue.”
“The way you never asked me to stand when men came into the office.”
Vincent frowned.
“Why would I?”
“Every other employer did.”
He said nothing.
“The way you changed the chair after I broke the narrow one.”
“I hated that chair.”
“You replaced all four.”
“They were badly made.”
Khloe smiled.
“You never mentioned my size.”
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Why would I?”
“Exactly.”
The smile trembled.
“You were the first man I worked for who acted as though my body had nothing to do with whether I could add numbers.”
Vincent’s throat tightened.
Khloe continued.
“And then I started noticing everything else.”
“What?”
“How you pay widows first after cattle sales.”
“How you pretend Perch—”
She stopped.
Vincent raised an eyebrow.
“Wrong story again?”
Khloe laughed.
“Apparently I’m exhausted.”
“Good. I was beginning to suspect hidden employees.”
She smiled fully now.
For one brief second.
Then seriousness returned.
“I love you.”
Vincent looked at her.
“And I lied.”
“Yes.”
“Both are true.”
“Yes.”
She exhaled.
“What happens now?”
Vincent took the resignation letter.
Tore it in half.
Khloe stared.
“That was dramatic.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“That is becoming an excuse.”
“It works.”
He dropped the pieces.
“You remain bookkeeper.”
“If I want?”
Vincent’s eyes softened.
“Yes.”
“Not because you need me?”
“I do need you.”
Her face changed.
He continued.
“But that is not the same as deciding for you.”
Khloe looked toward the hallway.
“And us?”
There it was.
The harder question.
Vincent approached.
Stopped close.
“Do you still want one kiss?”
Khloe smiled through tears.
“More than one.”
He touched her cheek.
Paused.
“Certain?”
“Yes.”
He kissed her.
The morning sun touched the office window.
No bedroom.
No storm.
No secrecy.
Just two tired people standing beside torn resignation paper while a ranch tried to survive around them.
When they separated, Vincent whispered:
“You’re still terrifying.”