If ever there was a day for some bullshit, this one takes the cake.

I throw up my hand in frustration. “Oh, come on!”

Some jerk just hopped in the cab I was waiting for. His dark eyes meet mine through the window as a cocky grin spreads across his face. Rubbing his chin, he says something to the driver.

Asshole.

I’m tired after my flight, and all I really want to do is get home and crawl into bed. My one-bedroom studio apartment is my sanctuary. God, how I’ve missed the comfort of living on my own after spending Christmas with my folks and our extended family in Vermont.

My Aunt Susan and her divorce was all everyone wanted to talk about. Depressing is what it was.

I look down the line of cars hoping another cab is mixed in there somewhere. Traveling during peak holiday season is a real bitch and right now so am I. I could’ve called Misty to pick me up, but she’s perpetually late for everything.

My flight was terrible. I was seated next to an overweight man who kept sniffling and blowing his nose, coupled with excessive coughing. Every time he went through the motions he elbowed my right tit. I probably have a bruise, and the last thing I need is to get sick with the caseload I know is sure to be waiting for me on my desk when I return to work. I would’ve asked to switch seats, but the plane was full.

When I pull out my cellphone to get an Uber, a deep voice calls out to me. “Wanna share?”

His tone vibrates through me, and he smirks when I look up from my purse.

My first inclination is to flip him the bird, but I want to get home more than I want to tell him to shove his head up his ass. “Oh, gee. Thanks.” I roll my eyes as I tug my luggage behind me.

The cabbie hops out, takes my belongings, and places them in the trunk.

The back passenger door hangs open, held by the cab thief and his charming grin he seems to wear with pride.

I stop by the door, waiting for him to move out of the way so I can get in. His gaze travels up the length of my legs, not stopping until our eyes meet when I slide into the seat next to him.

The first thing I notice about him is a small dimple in his left cheek, next to his well-groomed beard.

“You’re welcome.”

I scoff, unable to stop the shocked smile turning up on my face. “I think what you mean to say is, ‘sorry I jacked your cab.’”

He holds out his hand expecting me to shake it. “Weston.”

I accept it to be nice. His grip is firm and swallows mine. He’s definitely muscular, but not bodybuilder huge.

“Nice name for an asshole.” My tone is half-joking as I release his hand.

The annoyingly attractive man’s jaw ticks as he loosens his tie. I suck in a breath as the intoxicating scent of his cologne invades my senses. It’s a smell that I can only describe as pure male—woodsy and natural.

His tailored suit tells me he comes from money. The gray jacket hugs his biceps. I spot a hint of a tattoo under the collar of his shirt and I can’t help but wonder what it looks like.

The cabbie closes his door and turns to me. “Where to?”

“Village apartments. North side.”

The man nods and pulls into the traffic leaving DFW.

The world’s most annoying ringtone sounds from Weston’s pocket, and he flashes me an apologetic smile as I scrunch my nose at the whistling sound. My temples throb in warning of a headache. I’m sleep deprived.

He pulls his phone out, texting furiously.

I lean my head against the window, anxious to get home and fall face-first into my bed.

I don’t know what I was thinking flying home the day before New Year’s Eve.

My cellphone chirps from inside my purse.

Pulling it out I see I have a text from my mom.

Mom: Did you make it home safe? I worry about you traveling alone. Should have come with you and caught up with the girls.

Ugh. I love my mother, but I’m glad she didn’t. My mother thinks my friends are her friends.

Brooke: I’m alive. Tired. Call you soon.

“Boyfriend?” Weston, the cab thief, stares at me when I shoot a glare in his direction.

His breath tickles my ear as he leans in, invading my personal space.

“None of your business.” I hit send and stick my phone back in my purse.

“So, he dumped you.” He chuckles to himself, clearly having much more fun with this situation than I am. His eyes roam up and down my body once more, then his eyebrows raise. “Makes sense.”

This prick.

“I’m glad you had a moment of human decency back there, allowing me to ride in my cab, but I’m not in a chatty mood. I want to go home, take a nice hot bath, listen to an audio book, and enjoy a glass of wine.”

“I prefer whiskey, but I’ll settle for the wine if it’s a good year. We could help get you over this man that stole your heart and left you so bitter.” He has the audacity to wink at me and my traitorous body absolutely takes notice. The man is attractive and exudes confidence.

The way he stares at me seems to heat the cab up twenty degrees, and it’s not from the air blowing out the vents. Everyone thinks Texas is hot year-round. But in the winter things can get chilly.

“Wow. I mean, that’s some offer right there.” I roll my eyes.

“I don’t make bad offers.”

I close my eyes and count to three, trying to ignore my attraction to the raven-haired hottie who knows how to wear a suit and press my buttons. My eyes meet his again and what a mistake that is. His eyes are like dark pools threatening to drown me. “Jesus, you’re full of yourself.”

“You can be full of me too, if you play your cards right.” He smirks.

I look out the window, because I’m afraid he just made me blush, and I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. “Jesus.” I shake my head and realize I’m biting my lip.

“Just making conversation. Passing the time.” He whistles and looks off out the window.

“Right. Do you normally have women falling at your feet to worship you when you turn on your charm? Your game needs work.”

“Usually on their knees for other endeavors but worshiping me sounds nice too.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Never said I wasn’t.” He grins.

The cab rolls to a halt in front of a giant high-rise building. This must be the asshole’s stop.

“I’d love to continue this conversation, but this is me.” He flashes me a panty-melting grin as he pulls a money clip from an interior pocket of his jacket and slips the driver a few bills. “Keep whatever’s left over after you drive her home.”

Part of me wants to smack the shit out of him. I know the type. Act like assholes, then play the victim. If he wasn’t so damn hot while he did it, I might’ve.

Ugh.

Men.

Men suck.

Just ask my Aunt Susan whose ex-husband ran off with his trainer.

Before I can offer a thank you, he’s out of the car and the cab pulls away.