Left on St. Truth-Be-Well Read Online Free

know. It’s not a deal.”
    Florida raised his eyebrows. “Well, it seemed like a big deal to him.”
    Oh wow. Look at that. One last taco left! Carson could probably choke this one down nice and slow, hence relieving him of the embarrassment of trying to explain to Florida here why he had reason to know Stassy might take it all a little personally.
    He got halfway through the taco before darting his gaze up. Florida was still looking at him, eyebrows raised, like he could just sit there. Forever. Waiting. Waiting for Carson. Waiting for Carson to tell the truth.
    Carson took another bite of taco.
    And then spoke with his mouth full.
    “Wull mmmm dnnn knoll dand!”
    Florida had a full mouth, with a very defined upper lip. It quirked. It quirked well. And now it quirked upward as though it fully expected Carson to chew, swallow, and own up like a grown-up.
    Bastard .
    He swallowed half a breakfast taco and said, “Well, I didn’t know that! I thought we were just making out in a broom closet! And then….” Shit. Stassy. He’d looked sort of freaked out.
    “And then he took off to Florida from wherever you’re from to have a crisis.”
    “Chicago. Is it not tattooed on my forehead?”
    That full mouth pulled into a gentle smile. “No. City, yes.” Florida reached out and brushed his cheekbone with a long finger. “City is tattooed right here. But not which city.”
    Carson knew his eyes got really frickin’ big. His cheekbone started to buzz from that casual touch, and he took several deep breaths to try to center himself.
    “Chicago,” he said with an effort. “Born in the suburbs, moved to the city. Shitty apartment, decent apartment, Columbia College. Hell, I used to do the trolley tours. It’s in my blood.”
    That lazy smile widened, and Carson jerked himself out of the full-lip trap only to find himself drowning in blue eyes. “Salt water’s in your blood. City’s under your skin. That leaves room for other things. You want to go look for your friend?”
    Carson finished the last bite of taco and eyed him warily. That sounded… well, it sounded like a come-on, but not the kind Carson was used to from guys. It sounded almost like a girl’s come-on, but Florida possessed no girl qualities whatsoever.
    “You, uh, coming with me?” Carson hedged, and Florida nodded, that hooded-eyed smile just growing deeper.
    “Was planning on it. You ’bout done inhaling your breakfast?”
    Carson looked at his mostly clean plate. “Yeah.” He looked around. It was the kind of place with a cash register, but Florida had brought his plates to the table. And then sat down and eaten with him. “You, uhm, want a tip?”
    God. That laugh. Just sent ripples up Carson’s thighs and straight to his happy places. “Not that kind. Not from you. Hand me a ten and we’ll be good.”
    Okay, it was an innuendo of some kind, but Carson was damned if he knew what kind. He handed over the ten, thinking that was a damned good bargain for a giant coffee and a full breakfast. “Uh… okay. So, Florida, you want to cross the street with me?”
    Florida bit the smile on his succulent lower lip and nodded like the answer was obvious. “Sounds good. Let me go tell Marnie I’m off for the day.”
    “You can just do that? Leave your shift?” At Ivan O’Leary’s, Carson would have to get someone to watch tables and make sure all his off-duty chores were done and tell everyone why he was leaving and—
    Florida shrugged. “Yup. Marnie cooks breakfast, she gets the take from that. Jim owns the lunch part of the restaurant, he cooks that. I work when they need me. Breakfast is over, Jim and Marnie are changing in the kitchen, I can leave until lunch, and probably later. They’ll buzz me if they need anything. It’s Monday.”
    Carson tried hard not to gape. It was so… so… friendly . His frail brain fizzled and died at the thought of that much friendly common sense in a business. He couldn’t grasp it. He’d focus on