“Where’s Trent?” I ask, squeezing between them.

“Sick kid,” Devin replies. “Aria.”

Ahh, Trent. The favorite grandchild because he married a Catholic woman with a tenth of Italian blood and gave both their children Italian names. Golden boy.

I love Alison and she’s one of my best friends, but, pah.

“Nasty. She’s okay though?”

“Just a bug,” Brody grumbles. “Her third one this year, mind you.”

And it’s barely April.

“Such a fucking liar,” I mutter. “I’m gonna get married and have a kid to be sick all the time so I don’t have to come to these dumb dinners.”

Devin snorts. “When you find a man who’ll marry you, I’ll pay you five hundred bucks.”

I cut my eyes to him. “What does that mean?”

“Noelle, you fall over thin air.”

“Maybe clumsiness is attractive to some guys.”

“Yeah. The kind who hope you fall over when you wear a skirt,” Brody retorts.

“So, if I weren’t your sister, you’d be attracted to me?”

He screws up his face. “I’d rather be attracted to a fuckin’ bobcat.”

“Look in the mirror and you’ll find one.” I poke my tongue out as he prods my side.

“Do you ever stop fighting? It occurred to you that you’re no longer in your teens, yes?” Dad stops in the doorway when Nonna screams in Italian again. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “I’m in the wrong room.”

I grin.

Dad has serious and final words with both Nonna and Mom, which end with him telling Nonna to cut the Italian sassing and get her ass into the front room before he makes her move.

My smile drops.

Fuck me. The man hates me.

“You married yet?” she demands the second she sits down.

“Yeah. Last Saturday, I found a good Italian boy who’s so Catholic he bleeds the Bible and snores your favorite passages. He even sings hymns in the shower. Bagged him before I closed my open infidelity case,” I reply, my eyes on the television. “He’d be here tonight but you can’t see him. He’s invisible, and I think you might be sitting on him.”

She curses in Italian. “I should-a have taken you back to Italy years ago. I might-a,” she threatens.

“Not a good idea to threaten kidnap in a cop’s house.”

“I’m-a saving you.”

“Pretty sure you kidnapping me and dragging me to Italy is closer to murder. Attempted at the very least.”

“Noella!”

After twenty-eight years of her changing my name to make it sound something close to Italian, I’ve given up trying to correct her. “Yes, Nonna?”

“Look-a at me!”

I swallow down every thread of annoyance and look at her. “Yes, Nonna?”

She raises her eyebrows.

Sweet fucking Jesus. “Sì, Nonna?”

“So un sacco di veleni.” She raises her eyebrows even higher.

“Nonna, I don’t give a shit how many poisons you know,” Devin interrupts without taking his eyes from the television. “I’ll arrest you for every damn one of them.”

“I know-a love spells,” she replies, waggling her eyebrows.

“Never consuming anything you give me,” I squeak.

“Cops. You-a so suspicious.”

“Not a cop,” I remind her.

Brody frowns as Nonna gets up, presumably for pasta round two with Mom. “But—”

“Leave it, bro,” Devin says. “Don’t make her try the fucking potions. She already thinks I should have Amelia popping babies out like they’re bursts of air on bubble wrap.”

“Speak for yourself,” I grumble. “She’s been calling me all week for a date with ‘some-a nice-a Italian guy from-a Houston for-a date-a.’”

“What did you tell her?” Brody glances at me.

“To kiss-a my-a ass-a.” I grin. “Then I hung up. She either forgot, or she’s still too mad at my sass to mention it.”

Devin shakes his head. “You’re as bad as she is. Just find a nice guy and settle down, Noelle.”

“Like you are with Amelia, your girlfriend of five years, you mean?”

He doesn’t reply after that.

You’re never too old for word-spars with your brothers.

And I totally won that one.

I grab the chocolate chip cookie dough cupcake with the mini cookie sticking out from the top of the frosting before I’ve even sat down. Today was obviously Bekah’s turn to make the run into Austin to go to Gigi’s, because this cupcake is our favorite and, whenever the guys go, there’s never two in the box like there is right now.

And I didn’t have a receipt for gas money taped to my door.

Sometimes, I think the guys forget I’m their boss. One day, I’ll pay them a monthly wage of ten dollars for shits and giggles.

I open my giant planner and scribble as I lick frosting from the cupcake, listening to everyone telling me their current cases for the week. I say current because these things can snap open and shut quicker than a damn oyster having its pearl stolen. Tomorrow, it could be a whole different bunch of cases.

That’s also the most exciting thing about this job. It can change in an instant, without you even realizing.

I nod and everyone except Bekah leaves to get on with their work for the day. PI’s don’t get Saturdays off. Kinda sucks sometimes, the seven-days-a-week thing, but at least I can turn my phone off when I want everyone to piss off. Couldn’t do that as a cop.

I grab the lone lemon cupcake from the box and set it in my drawer for later, reasoning that I have thirty minutes of treadmill time penciled in for this afternoon so I can totally fudge the extra cupcake.

Plus, it’s Gigi’s cupcakes. I think it’s actually borderline illegal to justify sneaking a leftover cupcake into your desk drawer for later.

If I didn’t do it, Dean would be back in here the second my back was turned to take it. Pain in the ass.

“How did it go with Mrs. Luiz last night?”

Dropping into my comfy leather seat, I sigh. “About as well as if you tried to run my Nonna over with a monster truck.”

Bekah winces. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. I almost called my brothers to escort her out of the building.” I shake my head.

“Where were Dean and Mike?”

“Mike was out working a case, and I think Dean went for coffee. Or he was just hiding from her crazypants. I can’t say I blame him.” My cell chooses this moment to shrill from my purse. I dig it out from inside one of my Chucks and answer. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it.”

My oldest brother sighs. “Really, Noelle? You can’t answer the phone like a normal person?”

“Never. What’s up?”

“I have one of your clients here,” Trent says wearily. “Picked him up because his wife was scared someone was following her.”

“This is a new one. Who is it?”

“Samuel Beauford.”

“Samuel Beauford…” I mutter, looking at Bekah.

She frowns.

“Oh! His wife is pregnant,” I say, snapping my fingers. “But according to fertility tests, he’s almost firing blanks, so he’s certain she’s cheating on him.”

“Maybe there was a strong swimmer,” Trent replies. “Like The Rock of sperm or something.”

“That’s what I’m trying to prove. She does nothing but visit Target in Austin, the post office, and browse baby things.”

“Great. Well, he wants to talk to you.”

“I’m not a freakin’ lawyer,” I mutter.

“I know. But I can’t keep him in for anything because it’s the first call. All I can do is give him a tellin’ off.”

I love it when he talks down to me. “Yeah, I remember. I was a cop once, ya know.”

“Seems so long ago,” he teases. “Here you go, Mr. Beauford.”

Mr. Beauford immediately talks into my ear, his words coming at a mile a minute. I can barely understand a damn thing he’s saying, and I have to hold the phone back from my ear a little because, good grief, the man talks ridiculously loudly. Bekah grins from her perch on the tub chairs I have for clients.

“Mr. Beauford,” I say as soon as he takes a breath. “We’ve been following your wife for two weeks now and there’s no evidence of her stepping out on you. Please, sir, leave the investigating to the professionals or you’re likely to find yourself in jail for a short time.”