Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(123)

No, honey, slow down. Sierra-bear, you know how she gets. It’s all right. I’m glad

you called me. Of course. I miss you too. See you tonight.” He calmly shut the phone

and braced his hands against the counter, letting his head hang down.


“Mother-f*cking-sonofabitch-goddamn-it-all-to-hell-I’m-going-to-f*cking-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 f*ck 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’