Della
He still hadn't cried. No emotion at all. I hated that. I wanted him to grieve. He needed to let it out instead of bottling his emotions because of me. The idea that he was hardened toward his pain because he was protecting me twisted my gut. His father had betrayed him by sending me away. But I had seen the look in Woods's eyes as he looked at his father, seeking approval. He had loved his father. He needed to mourn his loss.
"Della?" I turned to see Woods walk into the living room. His eyes scanned the room before they found me standing outside on the balcony. He immediately headed for the door. There was a determination in his eyes that worried me. He opened the door and stepped outside.
"Hey, did things go okay?" I asked before he pulled me into his arms and held me tightly against him. He had done this a lot over the past week.
"She's grieving. We will talk again once she's had time to process everything," he said into my hair. "I missed you."
I smiled sadly and pulled back so I could look up at him. "You were gone for about an hour. Not much time to miss me."
Woods ran his hand through my hair, brushing it out of the way, and then cupped my face. "I missed you the second I walked out that door. I want you with me all the time."
Smiling, I turned my head and kissed his hand. "I can't always be with you."
Woods's eyes darkened with something I recognized well. "But I want you with me." He slipped one of his hands around my waist, tugging me up against him. "I can't concentrate when I'm not close enough to touch you."
I grinned as I pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. "When you touch me we tend to get carried away."
Woods's hand slipped under my shirt and I shivered as he moved it closer to my chest. "Right now I want to get carried away."
I wanted that too. I always wanted that, but he needed to talk. He needed to say something.
His phone rang, interrupting both of us.
His face tensed and he let his hand slide out from underneath my shirt reluctantly before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.
"Hello," he said in his business tone. He looked at me apologetically. "Yeah, I'll be there in five minutes. Tell him to meet me in my dad's . . . in my office."
He was having a hard time calling his dad's office "his." That was only another glimpse into the pain he was ignoring.
"That was Vince. There are several board members in town and they want to meet with me in an hour. Gary, my dad's adviser and best friend, wants to brief me first. I'm sorry," he said, reaching out to take my hand and pull me against him.
"Don't be sorry. There is nothing to be sorry about. If there's anything I can do to help you, then I will. Just tell me."
Woods chuckled. "If I could get away with keeping you in my office all day with me, then I would."
"Hmmm . . . I don't think you'd get a lot of work done."
"I know I wouldn't," he replied.
"Go, show that board that you're ready for this."
Woods pressed a kiss to my head. "What are you going to do?"
I wanted to work again. I missed seeing everyone and having something to do. Lying on the beach every day wasn't really me. "Could I have my job back?" I asked.
A frown wrinkled Woods's brow. "No. I don't want you working in the dining room."
I had been prepared for this. "Okay. Then I'm going to go find a job somewhere else. I need something to do. Especially with you being so busy."
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