Fire Maidens Scotland (Billionaires & Bodyguards #6) - Anna Lowe Page 0,30

a loss for years…”

Around them, the drab buildings of that middle-of-nowhere town reminded her that the area couldn’t afford to lose another employer.

“…but I doubt the new owner will be as generous.”

Especially if it’s Natasha, her dragon grumbled.

“A shame,” Lachlan agreed. “Best whisky in Scotland.”

Holly nodded sadly. “Top-notch, but Old Blaine just doesn’t have the brand recognition of the big distilleries. It needs a catchier name, for one thing.”

“Catchier?”

“Sure, like Dragon’s Fire Whisky or Twisted Thistle. But I like Dragon’s Fire.”

Lachlan laughed, just as Trevor had when her dad first suggested it.

She thumped his arm. “I’m serious. Dragon’s Fire Whisky would be great. Just last week, we were brainstorming ideas to help Old Blaine stay afloat. And for once, Trevor was listening.”

“Stubborn old goat,” Lachlan murmured fondly.

“If the business were mine, I would—” She caught herself there, because it wasn’t hers, and Trevor had just lectured her on regret. So, no. She wasn’t going there.

But Lachlan looked over. “What would you do, lass?”

He sounded just like Trevor. A little amused, a little breathless, as if he truly had faith in her ideas.

“Why do you ask? You think you might inherit the business?”

Lachlan laughed. “No. Just curious.”

She crossed her arms, not sure if she dared. It was one thing to think aloud around Trevor, who never mocked her ideas. Lachlan, on the other hand, would probably zero in on any inconsistencies and start calculating costs to the penny.

Well, fine. She would tell him anyway, dammit.

“I’d start with a sign. A big one. The distillery is only three minutes off the motorway, and just far enough outside Edinburgh to make for a good pee break.” Lachlan laughed, but she went on. “Seriously — every bus tour of Scotland’s highlights comes right past here, along with every tourist in a rental car. So, it needs a big sign.” She outlined an imaginary billboard in the air. “Dragon’s Fire: Best Whisky in Scotland. Tours, Tasting, and…” She stirred the air with her hands.

“Toilets?” Lachlan suggested.

“Hey, it would work.”

Lachlan shook his head. “Dylan wouldn’t stand for it. To him, those copper stills are holy.”

“Well, as manager, he’ll have to make some concessions if he wants everyone to keep their jobs.” She plowed on. “Then I’d add sampler sets to the product list. You know, one of every variety in small sizes.”

He snorted. “If you’re going to drink, you want enough to drink properly.”

She grinned at his rolling Rs in drink and properly.

“Besides,” he went on. “The margins are thin enough on the normal sizes.”

She shook her head. “My parents tried it, and people love them. Samplers make up five percent of our income.” He didn’t look impressed, so she thumped his arm. “Five percent let my parent refurbish the guest rooms two years ago, and that brings in more money. Plus, the samplers are great for raffles.”

”Raffles?”

Boy, didn’t he know anything?

“Yes, raffles. They help community organizations raise money while raising the profile of the business.”

He waved around. “Everyone here knows about the distillery.”

“Other folks don’t. When we donate a sampler to the local Rotary Club, it might raise twenty or thirty bucks in a raffle. Which is fine, and every little bit helps their projects. But we also donate samplers to raffles in other places. My friend organized a high-end dinner in Chicago, and the sampler set in that raffle brought in $300. That’s $300 toward getting city kids out into the mountains — plus, we got several new customers afterward.”

Lachlan didn’t look convinced, but she was just starting to build momentum.

“Plus, a distillery this big could easily host events. And for that, you would need to hire—”

“The new owner would need to hire,” Lachlan corrected.

Oops. Funny how her mind found it so easy to put Lachlan in Trevor’s shoes.

“The new owner would need to hire someone to run special events. They could host corporate retreats. Anniversary parties. Stag parties, for all I care.”

“Stag parties?”

“They’re huge business these days. That would trickle down to the whole community, because you could make a weekend package out of the deal. Accommodations, meals, sight-seeing… You know, show them the castle—” she pointed to the ruins on a rocky outcrop “—then bring them to a scenic viewpoint over a loch. After that, you treat them to whisky tasting, and then you send them to local B&Bs.” Her mind went into overdrive, picturing it all. “Which means we’d have to bus them in…”

“We?”

She fluttered her hands. “Okay, the new owner would have to bus them in. That way, there’s no