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I swivel at hearing this impossible news.

My eyes widen when the man slides a stack of cash across the counter, and “Jaz” pushes back a set of key fobs, along with paperwork.

Invisible flames shoot from my head.

“What!?” I stride to the counter. “You said you didn’t have any more cars. In fact, you said you had zero cars.” I smack the countertop and flash Jaz a death stare.

I will not be a pushover. I am a palm tree!

“It just came in.” Jaz holds up her hands like it’s not her fault.

“In thirty seconds?” She can’t be serious. “How did you get the keys so fast?” I cross my arms and glower.

“Maybe I can help.” The man steps between us like he’s about to referee. “I heard you’re in a bind, and I’d be happy to drive you . . .” he peeks over my shoulder, “and your mountain of luggage to your hotel.”

My mouth falls agape, and I step back a pace at his generous and yet highly suspicious offer. His smile is too bright, too smarmy, too something, and I can’t put my finger on it. Even though I have no reason, I don’t trust him.

“No!” I blurt too loud.

He and Jaz lean away like they’ve been slapped.

Okay, I do have a reason, but I can’t help it. His offer hit a tender nerve.

This scenario is too close to how my romance started with cheating ex-fiancé, Roman. He gave me a ride home one night after we were out with mutual friends. I refuse to ever fall for something like that again. Ever.

I study the man closer this time. His pearly white shit-eating grin stands out against his soft beige, sun-tanned skin. And his angular jawline? It’s working overtime. The perfect amount of scruff complements his shiny black hair, which is flipped out from under his baseball cap at the nape of his neck. It’s a fashion choice I shamelessly adore.

My internal warning system flashes red before I even look down at his fuckboy body. I do everything within my power to overlook his globe-y ass and sleeping bulge. Everything about this man is irrationally gorgeous. Categorically, he’s the worst kind of guy.

I compose myself, crack my neck, and summon my sweetest bug-all-the-way-off voice. “Thank you for your very kind offer, but I don’t take rides from strange men.”

“I’ll make you a deal. If you can steal the keys, they’re yours.” He winks and jingles the car keys, like this is an uber-fun game that won’t end in his tragic murder.

I inhale deeply, slowly, reminding myself that he doesn’t know he wouldn’t be the first dude I brawled with this month. In fact, Roman’s meatballs are probably still skyrocketing past Miami airport on their way to the Florida Everglades, where they will hopefully crash and burn on a twenty-foot gator’s dinner plate of spaghetti. But I digress.

I exhale and wonder . . . why is every man becoming my enemy?

Because every man is untrustworthy. Every. Man. It’s something I learned from my own terrible father and every boyfriend I’ve ever had, except one. Everyone but my sweet and perfect Adam.

After my personal hype music fades from my violent daydream, I see this annoying interaction for what it is. This man is playing with me. With his crazy height, all he would have to do was hold the keys higher than I could reach.

For him, the keys are merely a carrot on a stick, but to what end? Is he stroking his ego? Does he enjoy torturing those in need of a set of wheels? Is he simply the biggest jerkoff known to humankind? (After Roman, of course.) Deep in my heart of hearts, I’m convinced, it’s all three, and probably so much more.

I fold my arms and study him, trying to decide whether to try for the keys anyway. He might have been kidding, but what do I have to lose at this point? I need that car. My life and future happiness depend on it, and I’m not even being dramatic.

Perhaps guessing I’m on the verge of reaching for them, he jingles the keys again, egging me on.

Something about his gesture grinds into my frayed nerves. He’s won the coveted prize in a contest I didn’t ask to be in. I narrow my gaze.

“If you were a true gentleman, you’d give me the car because I was here first. Then I could give you a ride to your hotel,” I say in a sweet tone.

“Who said I was a gentleman?” He smirks, and I guffaw. “But I’m willing to test your theory and see.”

Mr. Blackhat holds out the keys in offering. His expression suggests he’s giving them to me, but still, I don’t trust him.

Because of this, I do something ludicrous. With all my strength, I lift my knee and slam my foot down to crush his toe. I expect him to double over so I can grab the keys and make a run for it.

Instead, he laughs at my feeble attempt and merely yanks the keys out of reach, which makes me stumble into his miles-wide chest where he catches me in a hug with my arms tucked tight to his chest. Oomph.