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I clench my jaw.

“No jobs. No contact with clients. No trips to town.”

“But I’m going to need⁠—”

“Anything you need, you’ll get it through me.”

Fuck. There goes my goddamn freedom.

“You recover and keep your fucking head down.”

Recover.

Sure.

I’ll be bored out of my fucking mind after two goddamn days here.

“Bishop, this cabin is supposed to be temporary. As is Hollow Creek. I planned to do the job and leave⁠—”

“You should’ve thought of that before banging Callie Quinn.”

“It wasn’t planned,” I murmur.

“That makes it worse. You plan everything.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

His tone is a warning. “Stay away from Callie Quinn.”

My jaw tightens.

“Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” The word comes out too quickly.

“Good.”

I stare at the fireplace, feeling angrier by the minute. This town was supposed to be temporary. Only here long enough to do a job, then on to the next one.

Until now.

“Can she find you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“She doesn’t know my last name. Doesn’t have my number. Doesn’t know where I’m staying. She doesn’t even know what my truck looks like.”

“Keep it that way.”

“I intend to.”

Fuck, can this be over?

I want to shower.

“My truck is⁠—”