Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [88]
“Mother-fucking-sonofabitch-goddamn-it-all-to-hell-I’m-going-to-fucking-kill-her-with-my-bare-hands.”
That was unexpected from Mr. Calm and Refined.
Gavin took several deep breaths, before he glanced up at Ben. “Sorry. Sometimes my ex’s sheer stupidity still astounds me. I try and get my frustration out of my system before I’m around Sierra.”
“So that wasn’t…directed at Sierra?”
Gavin looked appalled. “God no.”
“Oh.” Ben had no idea what to say.
He sighed heavily. “Great impression. Not only have I showcased my whining and sarcastic side, I’ve proven I have a quick fuse, a bad temper, a love of curse words and…”
“And?” Ben prompted.
“That’s it. Isn’t that enough?”
“Nope. I’d like to see how you act when you’re shitfaced. I bet that’s when you really let fly.”
He laughed. “I could use a shot of tequila right about now.”
“You’re in luck. It just so happens I have a great selection of tequila at my place.”
“I’ve heard all about the house you built. Charlie is really proud of you.”
His dad had been bragging on him? That was weird. But cool. “We could head over there now if you’ve got time.”
“I’d like that.” Gavin picked up his dishes and rinsed them in the sink.
That surprised Ben too. He assumed a rich guy like Gavin was used to having maids around and people picking up after him all the time.
And what would Gavin assume about you?
He was hoping the time for assumptions was a thing of the past.
Chapter Twenty
After his monumentally shitty day, Ben didn’t bother going inside his house. He headed straight to his woodshop, needing to connect with a part of his life that gave him joy. An activity that was solely his, a talent that owed nothing to the ranch, or to his family or even the club.
He tried not to think about Rielle’s evasion when he’d asked her where she was in the decision process. He shoved aside his worry he’d somehow fuck up this land deal and his cousins—no, his whole family—would blame him. He tamped down his resentment that Dalton and Tell didn’t balk at all when he’d shared the amount of cash they’d need to get Rielle’s loan current. When had he become the poor relation? And why the hell did that bother him so much?
Don’t think about it.
The smell of wood soothed him. Whether it was pine burning in the woodstove, or the scent of freshly cut lumber, or the aroma of cedar curls beneath his feet. The best way to combat his bad mood was to carve. He chose a small piece of walnut and turned it over in his hands, studying the swirls and whorls in the wood grain.
Some carvers could look at a chunk of wood and see the form inside. Ben’s brain didn’t function that way. He just started chipping away, keeping the possibilities endless.
He secured the wood in a block vise and lined up his chisels. By the time he finished setting up, he’d noticed the coloration of the wood was similar to that of a barn owl.
Maybe it was the mark of a simple man that all his tension from the day simply vanished when he began carving. He didn’t listen to music. His thoughts were focused on the next mark in the wood and what removing it would reveal about the piece. In that concentration he found his own peace.
A loud voice said, “Knock knock.”
Ripped out of his creative space, Ben spun on his chair and faced Ainsley. “How long have you been standing there?” came out sounding more accusatory than he’d intended.
She sauntered forward. “Long enough to admire your deep level of concentration and your skill with a chisel. Long enough to become jealous of that piece of wood because of how you’ve got your hands all over it.”
Ben was uncomfortable that she’d barged into his private space. Over the years he’d grown more protective of his “little carving hobby” because no one knew how much expressing his creative side meant to him, especially since his cousin Carter was the artist in the family. He had no concept of time in here, which was intentional. No criticism besides his own, which was intentional too. “Sorry, I didn