That solved his second question before he asked it. “Uhhh… I don’t think I had any,” he murmured in response, sitting up and rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye. “Not much of a drinker. Only barely alive, really, but I guess the thought counts. When do you close?”
“You don’t think you had any? You don’t remember?” Dixie asked, her brow furrowing both in concern and mild suspicion. Barely alive? What the heck did he mean by that? She checked her watch. “You got about a half hour, hon. Maybe you should ask the bartender for a cup of coffee?”









