Hero For the Asking (Reed Sisters: Holding out for a Hero 2) - Page 7

Clay exhaled. "I don't know, Summer," he admitted. He straightened abruptly. "I'm going out to look for her."

"I'll go with you."

"No." He shook his head at Summer's offer. "You stay here with your guests. I'm going to check with some of Thelma's friends and a few other sources. I'll call you if I find out anything."

"You'd better." Summer tugged him downward so that she could kiss his cheek. "Good luck."

"Yeah." Clay bade good-night to the others, then turned to Spring. "Ill see you again, sweet, uh, Spring," he corrected himself with a weak facsimile of his devilish smile.

"Good night, Clay," Spring answered, surreptitiously eyeing the lines that had suddenly appeared around his eyes. Perhaps he wasn't as shallow as she'd first thought, she decided, watching him leave. The news of Thelma's disappearance had obviously shaken him badly.

"This is really a shame," Connie said as Spring turned her attention back to the others. "Thelma can be so sweet. That mother of hers ought to be locked up for treating her daughter so badly."

"Oh, they can't do that," Summer answered bitterly. "Mrs. Sawyer doesn't physically abuse Thelma. The state chooses to ignore verbal abuse. After all, that kind doesn't leave bruises—none that show, anyway."

"This is rough on poor Clay." Connie twisted a copper-red curl around one scarlet-tipped finger, her expression sympathetic. "Thelma's always been one of his favorites, hasn't she?"

"Yes."

"Yours, too," Derek murmured to Summer, his arm tightening around her shoulders. "I'm sorry, darling. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Summer shook her head. "If anyone can find her, Clay can. I just hope he's not too late."

"How old is Thelma?" Spring asked.

"Fifteen," Summer whispered miserably. "She's only fifteen, dammit."

Spring bit her lower lip. "That's so young. I wonder where she'll go?"

Summer shrugged. "Who knows? The streets are full of runaways. They develop a talent for not being seen. She may even have left town, though she never has before. It's not the first time she's run away," she explained, "but last time she got into so much trouble that Clay almost couldn't bail her out. He was able to get her readmitted as a resident at Halloran House then, but I don't think he'll be able to now. Halloran House is only for those kids who aren't considered to be truly hard cases. Most of them are there at the insistence of their parents rather than the juvenile courts."

"What does Clay have to do with Halloran House?" Spring finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

"Haven't I mentioned that?" Summer asked, surprised. "Clay was one of the people responsible for getting Halloran House started a few years ago. He's on the board of directors and he spends most of his spare time there, counseling the kids."

"Counseling?"

"Yes. He has a Ph.D. in adolescent psychology. He could be making a fortune in private practice, but instead, he's a counselor for a public junior-high school in San Francisco."

Spring had risen when Clay left. Now she abruptly sat back down. Clay McEntire had a doctorate in psychology? So much for appearances, she told herself wryly.

The call from Frank—whom Spring discovered to be Frank Rivers, the live-in director of Halloran House—had cast a pall over the evening, so Connie and Joel left not long after Clay departed.

"You must be tired, Spring. Would you like to turn in now?" Summer asked shortly afterward. It was past ten o'clock—past midnight, Arkansas time—and Spring was tired.

The two sisters chatted contentedly while Spring pulled on a lacy blue gown and brushed out her shoulder-length, silvery blond hair. They mentioned their parents back home in Rose Bud, Arkansas, and chuckled together over their fiery-tempered, ultraliberated sister Autumn. Twenty-four-year-old Autumn lived in Tampa, Florida, where she worked as an electrician, and her sisters always enjoyed swapping stories about her.

After a few minutes of pleasant conversation. Summer asked with suspicious nonchalance, "Is Connie anything like you'd pictured her?"

"She's exactly like I imagined she would be," Spring replied with a smile. "I like her."

"And Joel? Did you like him, too?"

"Yes, very much." Spring swallowed, knowing what was coming next. She was right.

"So," Summer went on casually, "what did you think of Clay, once you got past your first impression of him?"

Spring looked quickly down at the blouse she was folding, allowing her shoulder-length hair to hide her suddenly rosy face. Just the mention of Clay's name had taken her back to that interlude in the hallway. She could almost feel him next to her once more, and the sensation made her pulse react again with a crazy rhythm. "He was very, um..." Her voice trailed off for lack of words.

Tags: Gina Wilkins Reed Sisters: Holding out for a Hero Romance
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