by L. A. Fiore
Secrets
L.A. Fiore
Anthony Dwayne
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2020, L.A. Fiore and Anthony Dwayne
All rights reserved
This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.
ISBN: 9798652542221
Cover design by The Cover Collection
File creation, mobi and epub, by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author
Paperback and eBook formatting by Melissa Stevens, The Illustrated Author, www.theillustratedauthor.net
Contents
Copyright
Playlist
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
Epilogue
Thank You
Acknowledgments
Also by L.A. Fiore and Anthony Dwayne
Ring Around the Rosey
Prologue
About the Authors-Liz
Stay in Touch
About the Authors-Anthony
Stay in Touch
Playlist
Beer Never Broke My Heart…Luke Combs
Your Mama Don’t Dance…Loggins & Messina
Up Around the Bend…Creedence Clearwater
Free Bird…Lynyrd Skynyrd
More Than A Feeling…Boston
Reelin’ In The Years…Steely Dan
Walk of Life…Dire Straits
Barracuda…Heart
Spirit in the Sky…Norman Greenbaum
House of the Rising Sun…The Animals
Me and Bobby McGee…Janis Joplin
Cherry Pie…Warrant
Follow Me…Uncle Kracker
Fortunate Son…Creedence Clearwater
Feel Like Makin’ Love…Bad Company
Fat Bottomed Girls…Queen
What’s Love Got to Do with It…Tina Turner
Son of a Preacher Man…Dusty Springfield
Sex & Candy…Marcy Playground
Proud Mary…Tina Turner
Canon in D…Johann Pachelbel
Have You Ever Needed Someone…Def Leppard
Lost on You…Lewis Capaldi
Can’t See You…The Marshall Tucker Band
Listen to the Music…The Doobie Brothers
1
Summerville, South Carolina
Arissa Haywood dropped down at her kitchen table, cracked open a bottle of beer and drank half of it in one long swallow. The movers had just left, moving boxes were scattered throughout her new home, and despite having days of unpacking looming over her, she felt good…happy. She’d lived in Charleston her whole life, loved the city, but she was tired of the rat race. She wanted a slower pace, not an easy feat being the editor-in-chief of Southern Charm magazine, but her life had been one of all work and no play, and already a few years into thirty, she realized there was so much she was missing out on.
She took another long drink, enjoyed the cold as it moved down her throat, and looked around her quiet house. One of the things she was missing was a family, hell, she’d settle for a man, a real man and not the perfectly coiffed men she’d dated in Charleston, the ones with nicer haircuts and more designers in their closets than her. She didn’t have high hopes of finding her dream guy in Summerville, it was a very small town after all, but if she was going to be single, at least she’d have her dream house and hopefully friends that didn’t spend all of their time checking their stock portfolios while sipping champagne at the country club.
Arissa looked around her spacious kitchen, the pale creamy yellow cabinets and soapstone countertops, and then out through the French doors that led to her backyard. She smiled because she’d never had a backyard. Already she was thinking about the gardens she’d put in, the bright colored flowers that would draw butterflies and hummingbirds, the patio and outdoor fireplace, wrought iron furniture and an umbrella to block the heat of the sun.
She glanced around at the boxes all labeled kitchen. She could get the kitchen unpacked, maybe even hit the market and make herself dinner in her new home. Finishing off her beer, she moved to the first box, ripping off the tape and pulling out her pots and pans. She’d need a pot rack, something pretty to hang over the kitchen island. She’d packed the dish soap with the pots and pans, to make it easy to wash them before putting them away.
Moving to the sink, she turned on the faucet, but instead of water pouring from it, a strange knocking sound came from under the sink. Looking back on it, she should have shut the faucet off, but, instead, she adjusted it, thinking a stronger flow would dislodge whatever was causing the problem. In her defense, she was an editor, not a plumber. She did not get the desired result. Instead, the knocking was accompanied by a rattling, right before the faucet started to shake. She shut it off then but it was too late. Water started pouring out of the cabinet.
Arissa jumped back, but then froze in shock seeing a waterfall coming from the underneath cabinet. It was only when her feet were soaked that she yanked open the cabinet door, causing a rush of water to pool at her feet. She hadn’t a clue where the shut-off valve was, but she turned every knob she could find until the river turned to a trickle before stopping. Bright side, no basement and the floors were tile and hardwood, but what a fucking mess. She hurried to the bathroom, ripping open the boxes until she found the towels, used every towel she had to soak up the water and then she grabbed the yellow pages her realtor had left for her.
Paging through the thin book, she wasn’t surprised to find there was only one plumber in town, but at least her disaster was happening during working hours. Reaching for her cell, she called Billie Donahue’s Plumbing, then leaned up against the counter and pondered how much the repair was going to cost. The phone rang five times before a voice came on the line.
“It’s Billie. If this is an emergency, call me at Moe’s, otherwise leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”
“Moe’s?” Arissa held her phone out, like it would give her the answers, and then she double-checked her watch. Yeah, it was only two in the afternoon. She was looking right at the page for the plumber that stated very clearly he was open until six. She flipped through the yellow pages to the M’s and found a full-page display for Moe’s. A bar. The plumber was not just drinking on the job, but informing potential clients that he was drinking on the job. She was definitely not in Charleston anymore, but a drunken plumber was better than no plumber. She called, waited.
“Yeah?” Moe grated out in a grumpy tone.
Arissa checked her phone, thinking she called the wrong number, but no. Feeling a little uncertain she asked, “Ah, is this Moe’s?”
Moe sighed. “Is that the number you called, Darling?”
“I thought so, but when answering for a business one usually says the business’ name.”
“Been saying my name for over fifty years, tired o
f saying it. So, what can I do for you?” Moe said into the phone, held it from his mouth and shouted, “Now, that’s the fucking way to do it!” Then hollered, “Woo hoo!”
Arissa jerked the phone from her ear, which was now ringing. What the fuck. Small town, part of the charm, she needed to remind herself of that. “I’m looking for Billie Donahue. His message said to call him at Moe’s if it’s an emergency.”
“Woman, he’s on a winning streak playing darts against Elmer, he ain’t got time.” Moe informed her before hanging up.
“Hello? Did he just…” Arissa dropped her phone on the counter. “What the…” She lifted the yellow pages, hoping there was another plumber because honestly Billie was not inspiring confidence. No other plumbers in town.
“Well shit.” She thought to call Moe back, but had a feeling she wouldn’t be very successful. She had neighbors; she could ask them who to call. She walked outside, looked around, and noticed her neighbor across the street was out. The woman looked like a runway model, definitely someone to hire a plumber. She hurried across the street.
“Excuse me.”
The woman looked over, her blue eyes taking in Arissa’s jean cutoffs, tee and bare feet before her eyes lifted, and a smile curved her red painted lips. “The new neighbor. Welcome, Sugar.” She held out her hand. “I’m Maureen Coburn.”
Arissa was breathing heavy, feeling a bit like a wilted flower next to this woman, but she shook her hand. “Hi. Arissa Haywood. I need a plumber.”
Maureen didn’t miss a beat. “That’d be Billie Donahue.”
Arissa’s heart sank. “I called. He’s busy.”
There was a twinkle in Maureen’s eyes. “Oh right. Dart day.”
“I have a lake in my kitchen. I need a plumber.”
Maureen tapped her lip. “Pulling Billie from darts would be like pulling Millie from a bottle of vodka. Not likely gonna happen.”
“But I need a plumber.” Arissa started thinking out loud. “I suppose there are other plumbers in the neighboring towns. I could google it.”
“Billie’s the only plumber in about fifty miles.”
Arissa was starting to rethink the charms of a small town. “So what am I supposed to do with my plumbing problem?”
“My suggestion. Don’t use the water.”
Arissa started to laugh until she realized that Maureen was serious. “You’re not kidding.”
“No. You’re welcome to use my bathroom.”
Arissa’s mouth opened but she had nothing. She couldn’t use the water in her new home because Billie was playing darts with Elmer. She would laugh if she weren’t so frustrated. “Thank you, Maureen. I might take you up on that.”
“Anytime, Sugar.”
Arissa started back to her house. She had to unpack, and being new to town, she didn’t want to give a bad first impression. She could wait out Billie and his dart game, right? How long could he possibly take playing darts? She wanted simpler, grant it not this simple, but it was a give and take. In Charleston, she could have seven plumbers to her house in less than twenty minutes, but in Charleston she didn’t have the calm, the peace and the backyard. She’d wait. She wouldn’t get to soak in the tub with a glass of wine like she’d hoped, but she could wait.
Stepping back inside, she closed the front door, saw more water and ran down the hall to find a new lake in her kitchen. Clearly, she hadn’t found the shut-off valve.
Grabbing her phone, she called Moe’s again and didn’t give him a chance to talk. “I have a lake in my kitchen. I really need Billie to come out here. I don’t know how to shut off the water.”
“It’s under the sink,” Moe offered helpfully.
“I turned all of those.”
“Well, not all, Darling, if you still have a leak.”
Arissa was beginning to lose her cool. The ink hadn’t even dried on her fifteen-year mortgage and her house was going to float away. “He seriously isn’t going to stop his game?”
“No, he’s got forty bucks riding on the outcome.”
It was Arissa that hung up, tears of frustration burning her eyes, the water creeping further out from the kitchen. Helpless as to what to do next, she called the sheriff’s office.
“Moe, if this is you again telling me I’m missing out on the dart game, I’m gonna come across this street and hang you by your balls.” Josephine sighed. “You know I love me a good dart game, you old tease.”
Arissa started laughing, softly at first, but she was losing it. This town was nuts. And what the fuck kind of dart game was this? She was tempted to let her house float away and go see for herself.
Josephine heard the light chuckle come from the other end. Oh shit, it wasn’t Moe. She looked behind her to confirm the sheriff wasn’t around, but caught sight of Mike staring at her with the same look that most likely mirrored her own…a deer in headlights. She cleared her throat. “Summerville PD, can I help you?”
“I think I’d like to see you hang Moe up by the balls,” Arissa said, laughing even harder. “Billie too.”
“Honey,” Josephine cooed. “I wouldn’t be caught dead touching Billie’s arm let alone his balls.” She chuckled and asked, “What can I do for ya, Sugar?”
Arissa roared with laughter, it wasn’t even funny, but she was getting hysterical seeing the water rising. “I think in about twenty minutes, you’ll see my house floating down Main Street.”
“Ohhh,” Josephine expressed, excitedly. “You the one that bought the old Meyer’s place, aren’t ya?”
“I did, but I don’t think there will be much left of it by the end of the day.” Arissa walked over to her kitchen table, sat down and kicked up her feet, leaving watermarks on the wood. Her feet were starting to prune. “A pipe burst, I can’t find the shut-off valve, there’s only one plumber in town and he won’t come because he has forty dollars riding on a game.” Arissa stifled a laugh. “Forty dollars. Thousands of dollars of damage is happening right now in my house, but heaven forbid he doesn’t get his forty dollars. I need another beer.” She looked over at the fridge and the water and decided against it. “So I ask you, what are my options or should I just call it a lost cause and move back to Charleston?”
“Oh dear, don’t do that,” Josephine said with disgust. “That place gives me anxiety thinking about the rat race that happens there every day. But, Sugar, I’m gonna warn you now. Darts here in Summerville is like NASCAR to a deep southern redneck. You do not interrupt it. No matter what.” Josephine hummed, “Mmm hmm.” And continued by saying, “Ya know that happened to the Meyers all the time, Darling. They were too cheap to get it fixed.” She let out a roar of laughter before she went on. “We always called their house the swimming pool, cause every time you turned around it was flooding.” Josephine roared again and started, “I used—”
“That was not disclosed during settlement, and as appealing as an indoor pool sounds, not in my kitchen. Is there someone who can come out here and at least shut the water off?” Arissa watched the water running out of her cabinet. “Though if we wait a little longer, there really will be an emergency, me drowning in my kitchen.”
“Ohhh, we can’t have that happening. No drowning in Summerville…” Josephine stopped and turned her attention to the tall man standing at her side. “New girl that bought the Meyer’s place, it’s flooding. Poor thing can’t find the shut-off valve.” She quickly said to him as his stare burned into her. “And you know that Billie’s playing darts today and—” She stopped mid-sentence when he walked away from her toward the station’s front door. “She needs beer too!” Josephine called to the retreating sheriff. She turned her attention back on Arissa. “The sheriff is on his way, Sugar.” She told her and added, “He’ll bring you beer too, honey, so don’t you worry.”
Arissa couldn’t stop the smile. Under different circumstances, she’d have enjoyed chatting with the woman. Sh
e was a hoot. Looking around her kitchen, she should be freaking out, but she was in shock. She definitely intended to have a chat with her realtor. Her house was called the swimming pool for crying out loud. “I’m sorry to bother him with this, but thank you.”
“You can thank me by coming to Moe’s in two weeks. Whoever wins today’s game plays the sheriff. He holds the title.” Josephine told her.
Going to Moe’s, she’d be tempted to throw a dart or two at Moe and Billie. “Is it a misdemeanor, throwing a dart at someone? How much jail time comes with that?” She looked around her kitchen. The cell would be a hell of a lot drier.
“Well,” Josephine cooed and continued, “Considering Hyacinth repeatedly throws them at Elmer when she’s at Moe’s and she’s still walking the streets, you’re good, Honey.”
“Then I’m there.”
“Wonderful!” Josephine expressed. “See you then, Sugar.”
“I look forward to it.” A knock at her door had Arissa jumping up. “I think the sheriff is here. Thank you again.”
“Oh, Darling?” Josephine called out quickly.
“Yes?” Arissa asked as she started for the door.
“Honey, brace yourself.” Josephine told her then hung up the phone.
It was becoming a habit, looking at her phone for answers, but what the hell did she mean by brace yourself? Arissa had just had the thought when she pulled open the front door to the sight of a back, a well muscled back by the way the tan cotton was stretched across it. And then he turned, and Arissa understood the dispatcher’s parting remarks. Holy shit. This was the sheriff? Tall, thick brown hair that stirred in the breeze, a mouth that was formed in a stern line and eyes she couldn’t see because they were covered behind sunglasses. He lifted his hand, her eyes moving to his bicep, before following the line of his arm to his face in time to see him remove said sunglasses. Dark brown eyes stared back. She leaned against the door because her legs didn’t seem up to the task of keeping her upright. Her mouth opened, but he was moving past her and into her house.
Hank took off down the hall in long strides toward the kitchen, tucking his sunglasses into his button down uniform shirt. “Jesus,” he grumbled when his boots were hit with the layer of water lying on the kitchen floor. He sloshed through the pool of water to the sink, crouched down, and reached inside the open cabinet. He found the knob, pushed it in and twisted it. The water stopped. He stood and turned. He saw her when she’d answered the door open, but he hadn’t seen her. Fuck. He took a step back and hit the counter behind him. She was gorgeous. Sparkling brown eyes. Light brown hair held up in a messy bun. Her flawless face was flushed from the excitement of her afternoon ordeal and the heat of the summer day. Lips. Jesus. Lips so perfectly plump and pink. His eyes moved down her body. Curves… curves he’d like to drive in the dead of the night. He shook himself from his thoughts. He wasn’t going there.