““Rough night, party animal?” Natalie asked from the kitchen table where she sat reading the Black Hills Trailblazer. “I’m not sure.” My memory was glitchy after that third—or was it fourth—shot of tequila. “Where are my sunglasses?” “It’s raining.” “I know.” I stood with my hand on the refrigerator door, hesitating. “But I need some cream for my coffee and the fridge light is too bright.” “That’s just sad.” She came over and nudged me aside. “Go sit and tell me what happened last night.” “You t...ell me.” I retreated to the table, falling into a chair. “I don’t remember much after I left the bar.” “Doc brought you home and carried you from the car to your bed. You were completely passed out and sporting some noxious tequila breath.” She placed the milk on the table in front of me. I tested the smell of my breath in my palm and grimaced. “That must be why my mouth tastes so bad.” “No.” She set a cup of coffee down next to the carton.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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