Harlequin Superromance June 2016 Box Set by Stephanie Doyle

Author:Stephanie Doyle
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781460398258
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2016-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THREE

THE SHOWER IN Sol’s bathroom was difficult though not impossible to navigate as long as he held on to the hand bar. But the water wasn’t helping the jellyfish stings. If anything, it made them worse. The intense stings had morphed into an intense itch.

Sol had searched the kitchen cabinets for meat tenderizer—wasn’t that supposed to be the go-to miracle cure?—but found none. He’d remembered hearing somewhere that urine would ease the sting, also, but he wasn’t that desperate.

He turned off the water and dried inside the shower, then got out and reattached his prosthesis. The itch was annoying enough that sleep would be an absent friend, which really didn’t matter because he could spend the entire day tomorrow in bed if he wanted. So instead of slipping into pajamas, he pulled on a clean pair of cargo shorts. After so many years in long pants, he’d forgotten how cool, loose and unfettering shorts could be.

Without meat tenderizer, bourbon was sure to be the next best thing for his stings, provided it was applied internally. He went to the bar in the large common room and found a new bottle because he’d finished the dab that was left in the old one.

The first sip went down smoothly. The second caught in his throat when a sound caused him to flinch. A cough sent the bourbon several places where it shouldn’t have been—onto the bar, down his bare front and, most irritating, up his nose. It burned up into his sinuses making his eyes tear. Great! Between the jellyfish and the bourbon, he was literally burning and itching from head to toe, inside and out. And the fact that someone was knocking on his back door...at two-thirty in the morning...did not bode well for this situation improving.

But he chose to ignore the knock. Probably just some drunk anyway.

Coughs continued to wrack his system until the liquid cleared from the passages it wasn’t meant to come into contact with.

Whoever was at the sliding glass door must have heard, because the knocking grew more persistent.

“Hey!” A male voice. “I need help.”

The word help called Sol to action. He grabbed his phone in case he needed to call 911...or the police...and hustled toward the hallway.

The kitchen light gave him a fairly good view of a man standing at the door that led to the deck on the beach. The guy needed help all right—but not the kind Sol could give.

Some kind of crazy-ass, scantily clad cross-dressing dude.

But he broke into a smile when he saw Sol. “Hey, man! Oh, thank God.” He dropped his head back in a relieved gesture. Then he straightened and pressed his forearms and face against the glass. The gesture pulled his T-shirt up, revealing an orange lace thong that basically covered nothing.

The man wasn’t bloody. He stood upright. He obviously wasn’t hurt. And he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get away from anybody.

“Go on.” Sol yelled from several feet away. “Get out of here.

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