That grin was flirting. If he was her husband, he’d be in the doghouse with Hooter for looking at another woman the way he was staring at her. Liz couldn’t remember when she didn’t work at the carnival in some capacity or another. And she’d seen men walking down the midway with their arm around one woman and eyeing another just like Raylen was doing.

Raylen stood up so fast that Blister rolled down into the chair. “I came to invite you to Sunday dinner tomorrow. We are a neighborly bunch in this part of the world. We do the big family thing on Sunday, and Grandma wants to have music.”

She pointed. “One mile straight across there?”

“That’s right. At noon. My sisters, Gemma and Colleen, will be there and my brother Dewar. My other brother Rye and his wife and baby daughter Rachel live over in Terral, right across the river, and they’ll be coming too. And of course Grandma and Grandpa and Mama and Daddy.”

Liz’s dark eyebrows knit together in a frown. Did he and his wife live with his mother and father?

Well, you lived with your mother until yesterday, so don’t be casting stones! Aunt Tressa’s gravelly voice seemed to whisper so close it sent an involuntary shiver up her spine.

“I’d love to come to dinner. At noon? Can I bring something? What’s your wife’s name?” she blurted out and wished she could cram the words right back in her mouth. God, that sounded so tacky.

“Wife?” he stammered.

“You didn’t mention your wife’s name. Your brother Rye is married to Austin. Are any of the rest of you married?” She had opened a can of worms. There was no putting them back now.

“I wouldn’t be over here askin’ you to dinner if I was married. That wouldn’t be right.” The words shot out of his mouth like a cannonball.

She cocked her head to one side. Were all the women in Ringgold, Texas, blind? Raylen filled out those Wranglers right well, and his biceps strained the seams on his Western-cut plaid shirt. How in the devil had he outrun all the women?

“Do you have a husband?” he asked bluntly.

It was her turn to blush and shake her head emphatically. “Carnies aren’t the marryin’ type.”

“Carnies?” He wondered if that was a family name.

“That’s right. You sure I can’t bring something?” she asked.

“We plan on having a jam session in the afternoon,” he said as he stood up and headed back toward the door. “If you play an instrument, bring it along. If not, just bring a healthy appetite.”

Liz walked him to the door. He turned at the door and looked down into her eyes and she moistened her full lips with the tip of her tongue, but he just tipped his hat at her and walked out into the darkness. Liz wanted that kiss and felt cheated, then cheap. A woman didn’t let a man kiss her just because he asked her to Sunday dinner. She might be a carnie, but she wasn’t trashy. She took a step back and looked over her shoulder at the dog and cat.