Ben wondered if he should leave the room.
A pause. “You listen to me, Ellen. If you sign the consent form, I’ll be at my attorney’s office first thing tomorrow morning, filing for sole custody of Sierra, without visitation rights. Because she doesn’t need to get her goddamn eyebrow pierced! Or her nose or her lip or her belly button. Don’t try that bullshit argument with me. End of discussion. And I’d better not see one f**king piercing on her body anywhere when I pick her up tonight, we clear? Put her back on.” Gavin paced. “Hey. 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-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 f**k 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’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**k 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.”