Pit Lane Persephone

Chapter 10: Lauren (Part 2 of 2)

"Oh. Hi," I say, taking a step back and forcing him to release my elbows, which he'd caught to avoid knocking me over. It's dumb, but I immediately miss the touch of his warm fingers on my skin. Next time, I should definitely add a shawl to my outfit to stave off the cold. 

"Ciao." He looks me up and down. "You look nice."

My face gets so hot, so fast that I'm pretty sure in spite of the previous chill my cheeks are on fire. Add 'raising the ambient temperature' to Seb Bianchi's growing list of skills, I suppose. 

At any rate, it's a good thing this corner is semi-dark. I'd hate to reveal my involuntary reaction. "Thank you," I say, smoothing out my already pristine skirt as I get a look at my teammate. He's one of the few men here not in a tux, but he's still wearing the hell out of the tailored, charcoal gray suit. Hot damn.

Catching myself staring, I clear my throat. "You clean up pretty well yourself," I manage to croak out.

"Clean up? What does this mean?" He draws his brows together at the unfamiliar idiom.

It's both innocent and adorable, and I smile. "You look nice, too."

"Ah. Thank you." He tucks his hands in his pockets and smiles back, literally melting my heart with the simple gesture. If someone cracked me open right this second, I would bet that inside I'd be a big puddle of goo, and honestly, I love the feeling. 

"Miss Dimas, could we have a quick word?" The question comes from an older woman standing a polite distance behind Seb.

After an evening of having every one of my words scrutinized by my table mates, I want nothing more than to continue this awkward conversation with my suddenly dorky teammate. I'm ready to kindly dismiss the woman's request, but Seb touches my shoulder and squeezes past. "Pardon me. I am on the way out anyway."

My heart sinks as my eyes follow him out the nearby door. Taking the opportunity, the woman grabs a man who's part of a nearby conversation and pulls him beside her. "My name is Elspeth Widemere and this is my husband George. We were at table ten over there."

With a deep breath, I plaster on a smile and shake hands with both. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all ours," George says. "We had an offer on your lot in the auction—the access passes for the weekend—but I'm afraid we were outbid."

I remember Tim from York's enthusiasm over getting the lot. "Well, that's a shame. You're fans, then?"

"Oh, absolutely. George here has been a lifelong petrol head, but I recently started watching because of you," Elspeth says.

"You remind us of our daughter Leah, you see," George adds.

"Oh, thank you." I instinctively search the room behind them. "Is she here, too?"

"Sadly, she passed three years ago. Childhood leukemia took her at sixteen, but she was a fighter." Elspeth puts a hand against her mouth, trying to hide her frown. After pausing briefly, she continues. "Like you, she persisted even when everything seemed to be against her."

"I'm so sorry." I reach out to give her a hug. After I pull back and see the woman's tears, my eyes also get cloudy. "But you give me too much credit. What I do is nothing compared to what it must have been like for Leah to fight such a horrible disease."

"You're still an inspiration, and I think you two would have gotten along grand," George says, lovingly rubbing his wife's back. "It's especially heartwarming to see you support causes like this."

"Thank you." I sniffle and try to keep from crying, but it's too late. Wiping the tears from the corner of my eye, I look away. "I hope you enjoy the race. Excuse me."