Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(124)

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’t hear you come

in.”


“Am I interrupting?”


A polite lie sprang to his lips but he couldn’t give voice to it.


“I should’ve called first, but I was feeling restless, so I drove out.”


He repeatedly scraped along a deep line. “I reckon it might be a wasted trip for you.

”


“Why?”


“I’m not in a real sociable mood.”


“Bad day?”


He grunted noncommittally.


Ainsley stood right next to him. “Is this what you do to unwind?”


Ben’s gaze met hers since her body was blocking his light. “This is one of the things

I do to unwind.” He let his eyes slowly travel over her body. “You’re familiar with

the other.”


Those warm hazel eyes chilled. “I didn’t come out here to ask you to tie me up and

f*ck me, Bennett.”


He couldn’t stop the surly, “So why did you come out?”


“Honestly? I missed your dogs. The whole snarling, slobbering, jumping on me with

muddy paws thing really makes my day.”


His lips twitched. “So you must’ve been disappointed when they were locked in the

house.”


“I’ll say. It was a total wasted effort to line my pockets with raw meat to win them

over.”


Ben laughed. Damn woman. Trying to cajole him out of a bad mood.


She wandered around the room, not touching anything. “So even your dogs are banished

from your sacred space?”


“Yeah.”


“I can’t blame you. Between us? I’ve found Deuce to be hypercritical about any type

of art. And Ace? Well, Ace just goes along with whatever criticism Deuce barks about.”


“You are hilarious.”