Free With a Little T.L.C. by Teresa Southwick Page B

thought we were talking about romance. I was paying attention. I missed the transition to a marathon.”
    â€œFrom what I’ve seen love makes the iron man competition look like an ice cream social.”
    â€œReally?”
    He turned and met her gaze. “I’ve watched guys I went to high school and college with fall in love, or a reasonable facsimile thereof. The next thing I knew, they’d split for one reason or another and then it’s all about hurt and blame and making the person they supposedly loved pay. Alimony, child support, not to mention the emotional cost. A friend of mine is going through hell right now. His ex is using the kids as a weapon. She makes his life miserable, changes the rules, holds him to the letter of their agreement. No flexibility at all. It stinks.”
    â€œThat’s a shame. Everyone loses. Especially the children. Take it from someone who knows.”
    He put his hands on his hips. “It seems wrong to use the legal system for revenge.”
    This was a side to him that surprised her, a depth she hadn’t suspected. She’d thought he was all charm and as shallow as a puddle. For some reason she felt the need to poke holes in his cynicism, bolster his boyish enthusiasm.
    â€œSurely there are happy couples out there. What about Rosie and Steve?”
    He shrugged. “That’s different. They’ve known each other since they were kids. I think they’ve always been in love.”
    â€œI’m not sure why that’s different. But, okay.” She thought for a minute. “Nick and Abby?”
    â€œSame thing. They have a long history together. Nick gave her her first job and helped her after her folks died in a car accident. She raised her younger sister Sarah and he was there for both of them.”
    â€œAnd suddenly it turned to love?”
    â€œI hear that skeptical note in your voice. I wouldn’t describe it like that exactly. I think it was always there from the moment they met and it just took time for them to figure it out.”
    He met her gaze. “Okay, and then there’s my parents who have been together over three decades. They’re disgusting the way they still hold hands, make goo-goo eyes, etcetera.”
    â€œI think that’s sweet.”
    â€œYeah. But given today’s divorce statistics, who can match that?”
    â€œSo you’re not going to try?”
    â€œI have tried.”
    â€œA lot?” she asked. She attempted a teasing note in the question, but found the subject still rubbed a raw spot inside her. Why? What possible difference could it make to her whether or not he had dated a lot? She had no intention of being next in his line of hopefuls.
    He smiled. “I suppose a lot. I’ve met quite a few women.”
    â€œI’d be surprised if you hadn’t.” A guy as good-looking as him would have to barricade the door of a monastery to keep the hussy hordes at bay.
    â€œYou didn’t let me finish. I’ve met and dated a lot in my time, but I don’t think love is in the cards for me.”
    â€œBecause it hasn’t happened?” Say yes, she thought, not willing to analyze why she cared whether or not he’d been in love.
    â€œThere’s been no one special for the long haul. And because of the example my parents set and all the pain and misery I’ve seen—failure is not an option.”
    â€œSo you’re giving up?”
    â€œI wouldn’t put it like that. Stopped looking is more the way I see it. I choose not to try. There’s a difference. Somehow it seems nobler to take yourself out of the game than to play handicapped and blow it completely.”
    â€œI suppose.” She shivered.
    â€œAre you cold?”
    â€œIt’s getting chilly,” she admitted.
    â€œI can do something about that.” He held out his hand.
    Her heart beat double-time as she put her cold hand in his warm, strong one and let him