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
