Page 82 of Coming In Hot

And then?—

The bell above the door jingles, and Pharo walks in like he owns the damn joint.

Which is weird. Because he’s not one of us. He’s not affiliated with the ALR. He’s notsupposedto be here.

My gut does this weird, traitorous flip.

Dressed in black jeans and a shirt the same color—the boots, the ponytail—he looks seriously out of place. Then again, he always does. Pharo just carries himself differently. A God among mortals. His movements—quiet confidence, easy swagger, and a smirk hinting at inside knowledge—are his trademark.

And trailing behind him is Joey!

She spots me and lights up like a damn sunrise. “Hey, Jaxy!”

“Hey,” I say, wary. The fuck is she doing here? With him?

Pharo grins, claps my shoulder like we’re best buds, and plops into the seat across from me like he’s invited. Joey slides in beside him, practically vibrating with excitement. She’s wearing that groupie-stalker grin I saw the other night when she met Pharo, the night she couldn’t take her eyes off him long enough to even spare me a glance. Just like she’s doing right now. She giggles, and I swear she’s blushing.

I recognize that laugh. It’s the

I-like-you-but-I’m-trying-not-to-make-it-weirdkind.

Spoiler: it’s weird.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” McCormick says, eyebrows shooting up.

Pharo doesn’t even blink. “Heard you girls were in the area. Figured I’d say hi.”

Joey giggles again, tucking her short hair behind her ear like she’s in a shampoo commercial.Seriously?

Does she not realize he’s gay?

I hate gigglers. How did I ever mistake her for a sharp-witted genius hacker? Amalehacker.

Stiles, ever the instigator, nudges McCormick and stage-whispers, “Ten bucks says Jax’s blood pressure just spiked.”

“Make it twenty,” McCormick says. “Look at his jaw. That’s a clench.”

I ignore them. Barely.

Joey leans toward Pharo, eyes sparkling. “Pharo helped me fix my car the other day. He’s so handy.”

“Oh yeah?” I say, voice flat. “Did he teach you how to rotate the air in your tires, too?”

McCormick coughs into his drink. Stiles loses it completely.

Joey blinks, missing the sarcasm by a mile. “No, but that sounds useful—can you do that?”

Pharo just grins like a smug bastard and flags our server.

“So,” Joey says brightly, leaning across the table to place her hand on my arm. “Pharo was just telling me about this time he outran a storm on the backroads not far from here. It sounded terrifying.”

“Mostly just wet,” Pharo mutters. His gaze is on where her hand is touching me. Huh.

“But heroic,” she insists, eyes wide. “You’re so brave.”

I don’trollmy eyes, but I feel theghostof an eye roll tickling my brain.

“Is that right? He sounds like a real road warrior,” I say, trying to sound as impressed as she does. “Did Pharo also tell you about the motel and the?—”