“Of course.” Brenda watched him steadily as she sipped her red wine. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
Heat rose up his neck. Seb didn’t do love. That was a trap he’d always managed to escape.
“Okay, let’s discuss further on Monday,” Brenda said, thankfully dropping the subject. “It’s party time and my husband will be here soon, and if I’m not mistaken, that looks like your girlfriend coming toward us now. I’ll see you in a minute.”
Seb swiveled on his seat. At the sight of Helen in a long purple dress, his breath hitched. He hadn’t known what to expect from her wardrobe choice tonight but out from that scrappy bag of hers, she’d pulled off an ensemble of vintage chic and class.Yeah, she was a puzzle, all right.One minute she looked a complete mess. The next … totally stunning. Seb slid off his stool to meet her.
“What?” Helen asked, standing before him. “Didn’t I get all the creases out? Is it too old-fashioned? I got it from Ada’s wardrobe. It must be at least sixty years old. I cleaned it, but does it still smell of mothballs?”
Seb didn’t trust himself to get near enough to find out. “It’s perfect.” That silenced her nervous chatter. Lips parted, she stared at him like she did when thinking up a smart and sassy retort. He offered his hand before one came to her mind. “Let’s take our seats for dinner.”
Chapter 18
HeadsturnedasSeband Helen entered the private function room. People clapped and cheered, and of course, ribbed him relentlessly about getting his butt kicked. Seb didn’t mind one bit. He’d won the race against surprisingly tough competitors, and a text from Mikey congratulating him on a successful day had made it all worthwhile. Strive and other campaign sponsors were also delighted, and most importantly, dozens of families had signed up for further activities, a sure sign that Get Living had achieved its aim.
Half an hour later, finally seated at their table, Seb poured Helen and himself a glass of sparkling water. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Helen clinked his glass and surveyed the room, a lot more relaxed than she’d looked last week at the inaugural dinner, probably because tonight’s occasion wasn’t as overbearing. The press had gone now, there were no celebrities, and all the guests here had either taken part in the Get Living event or had helped to set it up. As Brenda said, this was party time and the air buzzed with celebration.
“Tell me something,” Seb said, “Dickhead Raz, did you floor him like you did me?”
A naughty smile teased Helen’s lips. “Maybe.”
Seb grinned. “Our little boxing match has gotten a lot of people talking about the campaign. Today might be classed as a success.”
“Might be?”
He looked at his wrist watch. “Three hours to go. Plenty of time for someone to start throwing food at you.”
“I promise, that’s really not … Oh! I see. Sebastian Clarke makes another joke.” Her smile was bright and wide. “Well done. Soon, you’ll be wearing a red nose and squirting water from a flower on your lapel.”
Seb burst out laughing.
But when Donald Worthington, a local government official he’d met that morning, approached their table, Seb quickly styled his features into something more professional. “Time to get back to work.”
Introductions were made, small talk ensued and polite conversation flowed throughout the meal, peppered with talk of politics and sports funding. Contrary to what Seb had been expecting, Helen hadn’t needed prompting for anything to say during the three-course meal, which she ate with her usual gusto and appetite, and when asked about her work, she’d spoken with confidence and enthusiasm about the computing languages she used—Java,python,CSSandC. Seb didn’t understand half of what Helen had said, but it was clear to him—and everyone else—that she did.
When dinner tables were cleared, Seb got on stage and delivered his speech—to the accompaniment of more good-natured heckling which caused several big laughs.
“On behalf of Michael and Strive Sportswear, I’d like to thank everyone for their hard work in making today’s event come to life.” Seb then read out a few lines that Mikey had emailed which wished that he and Evie could be with them in person and congratulated everyone on an awesome day. “Even if the sports ambassador did get his butt kicked by someone half his size.”
Everyone laughed again as all eyes sought out Helen, who smiled awkwardly back with an innocent little shrug.I don’t know what you mean.
Rebel fairy?More like, kick-ass fairy.
Seb stepped off the stage and made his way back to her, stopping several times to give personal thanks to key organizers and contributors. By the time he reached Helen, the lights had lowered and the brass band on stage had struck up with a swirling big band tune.
“Are you coming to dance, Sebastian?” Brenda called out, buzzing on something more than success as she dragged her husband—a thin, salt-and-pepper-haired man—to the dance floor. “Come, Helen, take your boyfriend for a spin.”
Helen stood from the table, her long dress falling to her ankles. “She’s not so scary when she’s drunk.”
“She’s had a stressful couple of weeks, what with Dan Jones’s accident, then Mikey needing to be with Evie. I guess she deserves a drink.”
“So do you.”
“Not when I’m working.” Seb hadn’t drunk a drop of alcohol since Vegas—when he’d thought drinking to shut out his father’s death would be a good idea. He shoved the memories down and took Helen’s hand. “Did you enjoy your meal? I’m sorry it was a little low on salt and grease.”
“It was delicious, thank you. My dad used to say food always tastes better when it’s free.”
