soundly.
Somewhere between the two of them making up and standing here now, he’d become the de facto Sales and Marketing Director for Dyer’s Gin Distillery, a job she had sucked at and was glad to be rid of. It was supposedly only temporary while he looked for something else, but Emerson was getting used to having him around. She knew he had big aspirations, but Jake and Olivia had suggested offering him the job on a permanent basis. Emerson was still considering it, but she’d take her lumps if he turned her down because he didn’t want to put all their eggs in one basket.
“It did,” she replied with a grin. The heat of his body staved off the chill of the wintery breeze. “How was your morning?” she asked when they came up for air.
“Good. If the product sells well in all these new channels, it could be a great earner. I think we’re in with a potential distribution network in the UK. Opening a European pipeline could double the distillery’s revenue.”
“Assuming the renovation goes well and on schedule next year,” Emerson added. “We won’t produce enough without that.”
When she’d point-blank refused Connor’s offer of personal investment, he’d understood. She needed to do this on her own terms. Instead, she’d gone to the bank and explained the reasons behind her father’s loan. They had paid back the loan in full, using funds from the quick sale of their father’s house. A friend of Jake’s had wanted the house and had offered a fast closing to move in before Christmas. But she’d asked the bank to consider providing her a new loan. She’d shown them production volumes, expansion plans, and with thanks to Connor, a new sales and marketing strategy that would boost income considerably.
And the bank had been impressed with the plan. They were prepared to write the sheet clean, treating Emerson as a new business owner. They’d asked her to come back once the distillery had achieved three months of back-to-back improvement, and they were well on their way. Her plan included expanding the events hall into a new distillery, while the old distillery would be renovated into a larger, multi-functional events hall.
Connor let her go and walked to the roller shutter doors of the warehouse, lowering them to block out the cold flurries fluttering their way onto the concrete floor of the warehouse. “Jake’s just shutting everything down, and Olivia is setting up for the wedding tonight.”
Emerson thought about the small Christmas Eve party that was a surprise wedding for one of the Denver ice hockey players. She’d offered to work, but Olivia had assured Emerson that she and the team she’d hired had it covered. Still, she’d planned to stay the night at Connor’s anyhow, it being Christmas and all. That and the fact that his space was big enough to host both their families for Christmas dinner.
“Is it wrong that I’m so relieved Liv said she didn’t need my help?” Emerson asked as they walked toward the offices.
Connor threw his arm over her shoulder. “Is it wrong I’m relieved I get to take you home and make out with you all afternoon?”
Emerson laughed. “You wish. I have things to bake, make, and stuff. And you have things to wrap.”
Connor pouted. “I’d rather be unwrapping you.”
“Maybe if you get all your chores done, you can get a reward like a good boy.”
“Always the negotiator,” he muttered.
They grabbed their things from their respective offices. Connor had unofficially moved into the spacious cluttered storage closet down the hallway instead of sharing an office with Liv as Emerson had done. He’d moved Emerson’s old desk in there after asking Emerson if it was all right to clear out the space.
On their way out, Emerson checked in on the tasting rooms. Everything was decorated in sprays of flowers and greenery, in white and sage green. It smelled glorious. “Liv,” she called out.
“One sec.” Olivia clambered from beneath the white tablecloth covering a long bank of tables. “Sorry, needed an extension cable. How does it look?”
Emerson took another look around the room. The wedding planner had done an incredible job of creating the theme, and Liv had been equally successful in helping pull it all together. Round tables stood alongside the windows. The fairy lights outside would really highlight the snow later. On the other side of the room, there was a small dance floor. Discretion had been the name of the game. They’d not been allowed to tell anyone what