But she’d lost the guy who’d starred in those fantasies a long time ago, and at thirty-two, with a countless number of failed relationships in her wake, she’d accepted that you only got one shot at a soul mate. No one had ever compared since. She’d had to move on from that dream. She’d come to peace with that, but now a different kind of temptation pulled at her.

A vision of cushy furniture and people sitting around drinking coffee filled her mind’s eye. Happy conversation echoing down the hallway. A woman reading a book near the fireplace. A couple planning their day in the Texas wine country. She could almost smell the cinnamon rolls she’d bake for those guests.

The dangerous image was rife with temptation, like that too-smooth guy at the bar who’d smile and say, Come on, just one more drink. What could it hurt? This was not what she was here to do. She needed to stop with the pretty fantasies. She wasn’t that daydreaming little girl anymore. The one who could weave a fairy tale out of scraps of anything.

But as usual, her mouth opened before her brain got the shut-up message. “It could make an adorable bed-and-breakfast.”

Liv lowered her camera and eyed Kincaid. “You think?”

“You can’t see it?” Kincaid couldn’t imagine not seeing it. The place looked made for it.

Liv glanced around again with a pensive expression, taking her time. “The photographer in me pictures a great set for Halloween portraits or maybe a location for one of those murder mystery weekends, but maybe you’re right. If it had a major overhaul, it could work. It definitely has the space for that kind of thing.” She looked back to Kincaid. “But it would take a crap ton of money to get it there, and would that really be a wise business move for someone? Long Acre isn’t exactly a tourist destination. Except for those true-crime rubberneckers, and for them, a room with a portal to hell would be just fine.”

Kincaid blanched at the thought. Nothing irritated her more than the people who drove by her old high school and took photos like it was the set from some thriller movie instead of the place where actual people had died. Her people. It was one of the reasons the real estate market was so tough there. Who wanted to send their kids to a school known for a mass shooting?

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think it could be marketed as a tucked-away, quiet retreat that is only a fifteen-minute drive to Lake Wilder and a quick hour away from the bustle of Austin. There are wineries within easy driving distance. We’re far off the road, so it has a sense of getting away from it all.”

“Or being in a place where no one could hear you scream,” Liv pointed out.

“Liv!”

Her friend lifted her hand with a grin. “Kidding. Mostly. But you’re right. It could have potential. Maybe? Do you have someone looking for a B and B site?”