Very, very good? Too bad. Reality check: Santa doesn’t care if you’re naughty or nice. So you might as well have a little fun. And there’s still time. New Year’s Eve 512 Red Rock Road 9 p.m. to dawn Start your New Year off right—or, even better, very, very wrong. —K Adam locked the front door behind him and walked across the lawn to Harper’s house. He put his finger on the doorbell, but stopped, suddenly, before pressing down. In all the years he’d known her, Harper had never been on time. She would never notice if he took a moment for himself, to think. New Year’s Eve—and look how things had ended up, he thought, sitting down on the front stoop. Last year at this time, he and Beth had driven out to an empty spot in the desert—the same place that, months before, they’d shared their first kiss. They’d huddled together on a blanket spread out across the uneven ground, their faces flickering in candlelight. He had never wanted anyone so much—and never been so sure of anything.
