“So…we’re friends, right?” Caleb asks, then takes a sip of his coffee. He sounds casual, but there’s tension in his posture. My stomach clenches with sudden nerves. “Yeah. I mean, I think so. Unless you secretly hate me and pretend to enjoy talking to me so you can get mediocre pay as my shop assistant and accountant.” He laughs, some of his messy brown hair falling into his eyes as he shakes his head. “Yes. We’re friends. Unless you secretly hate me and are only putting up with me because I’m good at doing your accounting.”
