“I know the driving laws.” She didn’t back down, narrowing her eyes at him.
“I beg to differ.” He looked over at her car. “Does that piece of crap even pass California emissions standards?” When he looked back, her nostrils were flaring.
“Listen, I have someplace to be. I’m very sorry for what happened, but I’m not going to stand here debating with you one second longer.” At that, she spun on her heel and marched to her car.
“Don’t text and drive!” he called after her.
She grumbled something under her breath as she climbed in, shot him a dirty look over her shoulder, then drove away.
Gus walked the rest of the way to Adelia’s, annoyed and somehow curious about this woman who had almost been the death of him. Despite the accident, he felt rejuvenated by their little sparring match, and he wondered if he’d ever see Little Miss Hit-and-Run again.
TWO
After the kerfuffle down the road, there was nothing Merritt Christianson wanted more than to enjoy Adelia Allen’s Christmas party. Her heart rate was still elevated from the thought of nearly killing someone—even if that someone was a sarcastic pain in her backside.
She let out a breath to calm herself, straightened her dress, and rang the doorbell.
Adelia’s smiling face greeted her. “Merritt! You look amazing!”
“Oh, thanks. But look at you.” Adelia wore a sleek red gown, her long blonde hair styled in elegant thick waves, which harkened back to classic actresses of the 40s and 50s. She exuded glamour, and whenever she turned on that sultry gaze of hers, she seemed to channel a young Lauren Bacall.
“Oh no, you have something on your dress.”
Merritt looked down and saw the ugly line of dirt above the hem of her dress. She brushed it away as best as she could. “Good thing I wore black.”
Adelia shrugged. “That’s better. Nobody will notice.” She tilted her head to the side. “Come in. Everyone’s out back.”
She took in the foyer, where guests were greeted by three silver Christmas trees of various sizes decorated with shiny red ornaments on their branches. They entered beneath strings of white lights draped from the center of the ceiling outward, forming a tent above them that gave the room a warm and inviting glow.
“Adelia, this place! Did you do all this yourself?”
“It was my vision, but I hired someone.”
“It looks amazing.”
Adelia smiled from ear to ear. “Thanks.”
A pathway of more trees and lights led to the sliding glass doors that opened to the patio, which looked even more exquisite with strings of round bare bulbs draped across the space above three long tables, all decorated with poinsettia centerpieces in crystal vases and gold accents everywhere. It was the most beautiful Christmas display Merritt had ever seen. Especially when she thought back to the modest celebrations she’d had growing up. She was lucky if they had one Christmas tree back then, let alone multiple trees.
Merritt moved toward one of the tables.
“Sit here.” Adelia guided her to sit across from Giovanni.
“Hello, beautiful.” Giovanni stood and leaned over the table toward her.
“Hey, Vanni!” She closed the distance, and he placed a kiss on each of her cheeks.
He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “You know you’re the only one I allow to call me that, right?”
“I know.” She smiled as she took her seat, and he returned to his. “Where’s Whit tonight?”
“Family thing.”
“Why aren’t you with her?”
“Maybe I should’ve said dysfunctional family thing.”
“Ah.”
Giovanni was one of the first people Merritt met when she moved to Los Angeles fourteen years before, straight out of high school, to attend UCLA. It didn’t really make sense that they became friends. She was quiet and studious, working toward her chemistry degree, while he studied art—specifically photography—and was a social butterfly, often dragging her out of her dorm room to mingle at this party or that. It was his extroverted ways and Italian charm that helped to move him up in the art world, landing him a gig with a magazine, where he became instant friends with Adelia while photographing her to publicize one of her movies. And it was Giovanni who had introduced Merritt to Adelia a few years back.
“Leeches. All of them.” Giovanni nodded toward the other guests, his dark brown waves falling over his eye. “I bet not a single one of them actually knows a thing about who she really is or even cares to know. They all want to say they attended Adelia Allen’s Christmas party. As if she’s their ticket to notoriety.” His voice dripped with disgust as he pushed his hair back from his face.
Merritt gave him an appreciative smile. “At least she has us.”
She scanned the crowd to see if there were any familiar faces, and her gaze settled on a man coming around the side of the house. He was dressed in a T-shirt and shorts and was holding his … elbow.
Her mouth fell open as she watched the man she’d almost hit with her car wander across the yard like he owned the place.
“What’s wrong?” Giovanni asked.
She nodded toward the man as Adelia approached him and pressed her hands against his chest, turning him around, and pushing him toward her pool house.
“Oh, that’s Gus,” he said. “You haven’t met him?”
She shook her head. They hadn’t exactly been properly introduced.
“He’s an old friend, staying in her pool house right now. Came from Michigan to get away from family drama, apparently.”
“I’m from Michigan too,” she replied, finding their commonality interesting.
“That’s right. You are.” He lifted his chin toward Gus. “His family owns Schultz Chocolate.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious?” Schultz Chocolate was one of the biggest chocolate companies in the world. Her heart skipped in her chest as she realized she could have killed one of the heirs to the Schultz fortune. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach.
Adelia returned to the party several minutes later and approached the table with a sigh. “He fell while running and scraped up his arm.”
Merritt tensed.
“Is he okay?” Giovanni asked.
“Yeah, he’s getting cleaned up.”
“I didn’t know you had someone staying in your pool house,” Merritt commented.
“Our families have known each other for years.” She let out another sigh. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with him. He really should go home and spend Christmas with his family, but he’s being so stinking stubborn.”
“Isn’t he always?” Giovanni asked.
“More so than usual,” she replied.
“He didn’t look dressed for a party.”
She rolled her eyes. “He forgot I was having people over.”
That seemed to fit with what little Merritt knew of the man. “Sounds like an inconsiderate jerk if you ask me.”
“Well, she didn’t.” That voice she’d heard not an hour before interrupted their conversation.
She turned to see the very person they were talking about—now dressed in chinos and a wrinkled button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up—looking down at her with disapproval.