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Thirty-two.

"Okay, now it's your turn." Rebecca said, holding out the salt shaker and the tequila shot to Colt. "Stop holding out on me Miss Merrier." She laughed at her friend's resistant attitude, with a twinkle in her eye.

"No. I can't Becks, not again." Colt said, taking a sip from her beer instead. Remini...

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