Liz shook her head.

“That she thought the judge was hot and she left her phone number on the table right in front of him, and he never did call her.” Gemma laughed so hard she got the hiccups.

“I’ve got to get to know these women better. Do they come into the café often?” Liz asked.

“At least once a week. Ellen gets her hair fixed every week, and Nellie gets a cut about once a month. I tried to get them to come to the party and bring the kids, but Ellen said she would dress up like a flapper and bring a quart of moonshine with her. Nellie says she’s not letting her out of the house,” Gemma answered.

“What are you dressing up like?” Liz asked Gemma.

“Depends. If Creed says he’s coming I might dress up like Daisy Duke. God, but that boy is pretty, and the less clothes I have on the less he has to take off,” Gemma said with a grin.

“He’s too damn young for you!” Raylen said.

“He’s twenty-four, Brother. And I’m only twenty-five, and I didn’t say I was going to marry him. I just thought I’d make his job easier if we did hook up,” Gemma said.

“Jesus, Mary, and—”

“Forget Joseph. I’d rather have Creed.” Gemma giggled.

“You…” Raylen’s finger was a blur when it shot up to point at her.

Gemma slapped his finger away. “Right back at you. Just remember what’s good for the goose is good for the gander. You O’Donnell guys can be wild, but us girls are supposed to be sweet little lilies? It don’t work that way, Brother. If I want to take off my Daisy Duke cutoff jeans for Creed, then I will do so, and you can’t stop me.”

Liz had always wanted a sibling so she could argue just like Raylen and Gemma were doing right then. She switched her empty tea glass with Raylen’s and sipped at his full one while they bickered.

So, the O’Donnell guys had a reputation for being a little on the wild side, did they? She’d bet dollars to funnel cakes that not a one of them could outdo Blaze. And if Gemma liked them wild and woolly, maybe she’d be the one to tame Blaze. Too bad he wouldn’t be in Bowie over Halloween. Liz would have wrangled an invitation for him to the party and watched all the women flock around him.

Gemma poked her on the arm. “I asked what you were going to dress up like. What were you thinkin’ about?”

“Blaze,” Liz said honestly.

“You are dressing up like fire?” Raylen asked.

“No, I’m not. Blaze is…well, he works for the carnival. His mama was Aunt Tressa’s winter friend in west Texas. It’s a long story, but her friend died when Blaze was fourteen, so Tressa took him in and taught him the carnie business. He’s kind of like a surrogate son to her. I was thirteen that year, so we were brought up together, kind of…”