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Partially, though, because his motherwasn’ta fool. No matter how much Shane didn’t understand this version of his mother, smiling and laughing with Ben and another couple as they stepped and twirled and moved about a small square of space on the floor, he also couldn’t quite bring the judgmental hammer down on it, so to speak.

“She’s happy, and she’s having fun,” Cora said, her voice soothing some of these uncomfortable edges inside of him. “I know you want that for her.”

He glanced down, the crown of Cora’s head only just coming up to his nose. A riot of reddish curls that made no more sense to him than the woman who’d given birth to himsquare dancing.

Shane sighed heavily. “How do you know I want that?”

Blue eyes met his, something like consideration on her face. Her mouth curved, but he noted the dimple that had appeared in her cheek yesterday didn’t with this smaller, softer smile.

“You know, yesterday your mom told me you hadn’t given her an ounce of trouble since you were twelve.”

Shane stiffened. Couldn’t help it. Because twelve had been a grave turning point in his life, and he’d been very sure not to be trouble, just like he was almost certain his brother Boone had determined to be nothing but.

He could feel Cora’s curious stare and wished he was better at hiding the way tension had crept into his body, the way everything about the age oftwelvestill stuck to him like flypaper.

“Did something happen when you were twelve?” she asked.

“Maybe I just decided my hellion days were behind me,” he said, his voice sounding strained even in the midst of music and revelry.

“In my experience, twelve is when hellion is just beginning.”

“You have a lot of experience with twelve-year-olds?” he asked gruffly, hoping this conversation would go anywhere else.

“Not a lot, though mine’s almost thirteen, so certainly enough.”

That jolted him enough to knock some of the tension out of him. He didn’t think Cora was a day over twenty-five. “You can’t have a twelve-year-old.” He could barely picture her as a mother, let alone one of an almost teenager.

“Afraid so.”

He opened his mouth to ask how old she was, then clamped it shut. None of his business and rude besides, but he couldn’t help studying her out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, just ask,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Ask what?”

She grinned up at him then, that dimple winking to life. “I know what you want to ask. I’ve been down this road a few times in my life.”

“What road?” he asked as innocently as he could manage.

She shrugged, still grinning, though her gaze went back out to Mom and Ben on the dance floor. “You never know the answers to the questions you won’t ask.”

“Guess I’ll never know then,” he replied.

“Suit yourself.”

He clamped his mouth shut. He wouldn’t be tricked into asking a sensitive question. It wouldn’t be polite.

She had analmost-thirteen-year-old. This pretty little thing, smiling at his mother dancing some ridiculous dance with a man who would do nothing but ruin everything.

His mother was smiling, happily flushed, clearly having a hell of a time, and Shane felt conflicted for the first time. Because Cora was right, he did want his mother’s happiness. He just knew this wasn’t it.

“Maybe she is happy,” Shane offered as concession. He’d been happy himself once upon a time, and what had happened? “Maybe she wants nothing more in this life than to marry Ben Donahue, but I can’t let her do that when I am certain that man is nothing but trouble. I won’t . . .” He didn’t feel right bringing Molly up, how he’d failed that particular time. Not totally his fault since Molly was stubborn as a mule, but this time . . .

He couldn’t let it happen to Mom. Because she might not be able to bounce back. She’d loved and lost Dad. What would being embarrassed do to her?

“I have to protect my family.”

Cora looked up at him again, something sad and a little wistful in her expression. “That’s really sweet,” she said, looking something close to teary.