And one thought pounding harder than the crowd ever could?—
Beat the Krakens.
6
Bayleigh
I feelhim before I see him — a shift in the air, the vibration of his steps hitting the metal bleachers. My implant crackles uselessly, picking up nothing but static. Not sure how it’s possible. He’s not my scent match. I’ve already had that, and he rejected me. Yet, I’m drawn to the tall asshole of a man. I keep signing with James, but I watch him out of the corner of my eye as he makes his way over to us. He’s carrying a tray, and my mouth waters when I see the popcorn. Easy to remember, but does he have the nacho cheese? That’s the question.
He says something to the people in the row below us as he makes his way down the tiny space between the seats they expect people to walk. Insane if you ask me, especially if someone is sitting in the seat. My eyes trail up his body, my attention gone from what James was telling me to the alpha standing before me.
He hands a drink to James, then to me. I set it on the ground by my feet, and he passes me the tub of popcorn—bigger than the one I originally ordered. My heart swells when he hands me a cup of cheese, and I catch the faintest trace of his scent—sandalwood and amber, soft but grounding—slipping past my guard before I can stop it.
A huge smile crosses my face, and I set the popcorn in my lap and quickly sign.
You remembered.
James laughs from beside me and translates while also signing for me. “She’s shocked you remembered the cheese. We both are. Well, I’m more impressed you actually came and found us. Thanks for the soda. Beer would’ve been better.” He winks, lifting the cup to his mouth and taking a swallow.
The alpha holds the tray in his hand with the remaining items on it as he runs his other hand through his hair, his nose scrunching slightly. Fuck, that’s hot.
“I’m still trying to figure that out. A cup of nacho cheese? No chips?” He tilts his head to the side. “I’m Lincoln, by the way. Nice to meet you both and again, sorry about earlier.”
Lincoln. The name suits him. But I like Linc better.
It’s for dipping the popcorn; trust me, it elevates the taste to a whole other level. I’m Bayleigh, and this is my bestie and translator, James.I sign to him, glancing at James to make sure he’s translating and not letting Lincoln struggle.
Before Lincoln can respond, James lifts his hand and signs my name—“B” tapped twice over the heart—the name sign I was given when I was little. A name sign is tradition in ASL, something earned, not chosen. Lincoln watches the movement like it’s something important, something he wants to get right, and the seriousness in his eyes makes my breath stutter.
While I’m caught in my musings, Lincoln takes the opportunity to climb over the seat and plop down in the empty one beside me. A rich, buttery wood scent, with a tinge of sweetness, drifts off of him—sandalwood and a hint of amber. Fuck, it’s intoxicating.
He sets the tray down on the floor beside him, right in front of the empty seat, then angles his body toward me. He picks up his phone, glancing at it quickly before dropping it into his lap, and signs.
I’m sorry.
My eyes go wide in disbelief, and I let out a small gasp.
You know sign language?
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, and I know James is translating what I’m saying. James smiles, and then his lips move, and I follow them, imagining what his voice sounds like.
“No.” He runs his hand along the side and back of his neck. “I felt like a dickhead, and well, I Googled it. Figured out how to say at least that so it seems like I truly mean it.” He drops his head so I don’t see the last part, and I shift my gaze back over to James and wait for him to sign to me what he said.
It was a nice gesture. Not many people would even try.My fingers cut through the air as I respond to him.
James taps me on the shoulder so that he can sign to me what he’s about to say.
“Linkie. Can I call you that?” James asks with a seductive grin. “Nah, doesn’t matter if you say no. So, Linkie, if you look her directly in the face, don’t cover your mouth and speak slowly and clearly, she can read your lips.”
Lincoln nods in understanding.
“I know I kinda already sat down, and it doesn't look like the owner of this seat has arrived. Would it be okay for me to join you for the game?”
He did just as James instructed, and I understood every word clear as day.
Well, you're already sitting there. And this is a public arena, so I can’t really say no, can I?
I don’t need to look back over at James to know he’s told Lincoln what I said. I wonder if he feels like a third wheel?Unless I’m reading the signs wrong and this hot as sin man isn’t hitting on me.
