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stay the hell away from the lad.”
    I grinned. Everyone did when Da went all-Irish. “Easier said than done.”
    He smiled back and his eyes softened. “Maybe I was a wee bit hasty putting you on contract. How about you make your mother happy? Sign up for law school and I’ll give you the summer off.”
    â€œLaw school’s never going to happen.”
    â€œYou’ve suffered a mighty disappointment. Don’t discard a bright future out of hand.”
    â€œWhat are you saying?” The unfairness of it all hit me like a baseball bat to the chest. “I don’t have what it takes to be a cop?”
    â€œI’m not the one saying it.”
    â€œOh no?” I could feel my lizard brain scrambling out from beneath its rock. “You’re glad I’m out.”
    â€œI’m not crying in my beer if that’s what you’re asking.”
    â€œMaybe you think I should take Cash up on his offer. Be some lame-ass meter maid?”
    Da looked down the length of the spindle, rotating it. “Mightn’t be a bad interim job for the summer. Take some of the shine off the fantasy you’ve created.”
    Try the world I’ve grown up in.
    He raised the sandpaper again. Touching up perfection. “Dealing with the public’s resentment, oceans of paperwork . . .”
    Holy cat! There it was, like a diamond ring in a gumball machine.
    I’d ticket my way into reinstatement.
    Blood pulsed in my ears as I fought to keep the delight from my face. “Fine,” I said, somehow managing to keep my voice paper-flat. “I’ll be the best damn meter maid you’ve ever seen.”
    â€œYou do that, luv.”

Chapter 5
    I trotted down the stairs, the house still mostly dark at five thirty. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail, a hard knot of resentment burning in my belly. I’d grab a PowerBar to eat on the way to St. Mary’s.
    Thank God for Hank. And bleacher stairs. Cash met me in the hallway, finger across his lips. He crouched and motioned for me to come toward him. We snuck around the back side of the kitchen. Mom and Flynn were at the dining room table.
    â€œHe’s thirty-one,” Flynn was saying. “Seven years older than Maisie. Christ, he could be her—”
    â€œBrother? Uncle? Cousin?” Mom flipped the pages on two separate briefs she had spread out on the table.
    â€œMom. An ex–Army Ranger? And who knows if that’s even true? His records are inaccessible. Age-wise he’s at the physical apex of his career. So you tell me. Why is he training guys in some dump of a gym?”
    My mother took a precise bite of poached egg and arugula.
    â€œMom,” Flynn said. “You can’t let Maisie go out with this guy. He has a house worth about 1.2 million, no mortgage, and only token credit card purchases. It’s like he doesn’t exist.”
    Cash turned to me. I waved him off.
    â€œHe sounds fiscally responsible to me,” Mom said. “Your sister’s a grown woman and can date whomever she pleases. I see no reason to overreact.”
    â€œHe has at least three vehicles, multiple gun licenses—”
    â€œNor do I believe brotherly concern constitutes a legitimate reason to run Mr. Bannon through the system.”
    â€œI ran him through the family sources.” Flynn sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Like Maisie should have had the sense to do in the first place.”
    â€œWho says she hasn’t?” Mom set her knife and fork across her plate. “Your sister is devastated at losing her place at the Academy. And while I gently reveal to her that law school is indeed her destiny, I’d appreciate it if you kept your big muddy feet off my clean floors.”
    â€œFine. But—”
    â€œAnd while we’re on the subject, Flynn McGrane, perhaps if you focused more of your energies on your own love life, your father and I