That solved his second question before he asked it. âUhhh⌠I donât think I had any,â he murmured in response, sitting up and rubbing the heel of his palm into his eye. âNot much of a drinker. Only barely alive, really, but I guess the thought counts. When do you close?â
âYou donât think you had any? You donât remember?â 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. âYou got about a half hour, hon. Maybe you should ask the bartender for a cup of coffee?â










