I opened my mouth to answer when the smell hit me. That distinctive stomach-churning, nose-wrinkling, gag-inducing smell that accompanies undigested food and bile. My mouth pooled with saliva and I felt my throat convulse. This was an emergency of epic proportions as I am a sympathy puker. You puke, I puke, we all puke. Truly, if someone hurls near me, it becomes a gastro-geyser of Old Faithful proportions. I spun away from the man in a flurry of arms that slapped his book out of his hands and sent it careening toward the ocean.

He let out a yell and made a grab for it. He missed and leaned over the railing, looking as if he was actually contemplating making a dive for it.

I felt terrible and would have apologized, but I was too busy holding my fist to my mouth while trying not to lose my breakfast. The egg-and-bacon sandwich I’d enjoyed suddenly seemed like the worst decision ever and it took all of my powers of concentration not to hurl. I tried to breathe through my mouth but the retching sounds Frat Boy was making were not helping.

“Come on.” Reader Guy took my arm and helped me move farther away. I turned my head in case I was sick. I could feel my stomach heaving and then—

“Ouch! You pinched me!” I cried.

My hero—although that seemed like an overstatement given that he had just inflicted pain upon my person—had nipped the skin on the inside of my elbow with enough force to startle me and make me rub my arm.

“Still feel like throwing up?” he asked.

I paused to assess my stomach situation. The episode had passed. I blinked at him. He was taller than me. Lean with broad shoulders and wavy dark brown hair that reached his shoulders. He had nice features, arching eyebrows, sculpted cheekbones, and a defined jaw covered in a thin layer of scruff. His eyes were a blue-gray much like the ocean surrounding us. Dressed in a navy sweatshirt, khaki shorts and black lace-up work boots, he looked like a local.

He stared at me expectantly, and I realized he’d asked a question and was waiting for an answer. Feeling like an idiot for blatantly checking him out, I attempted to play it off as if I was still wrestling with the urge to upchuck. I raised my hand in a wait gesture and then slowly nodded.

“No, I think I’m okay,” I said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. Then he smiled at me—it was a dazzler—making me forget the horror of the last few minutes. “You tossed my book into the ocean.”