Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
MAISIE
The Pheasant’s tables are empty, chairs still upside down on top of them, except for the one where Da and I sit. It’s late morning on a Monday—the perfect time for a meeting, I’d say, but judging by my father’s face, you’d think I’d dragged him here for a funeral.
“Right.” I pull out my notebook and click my pen. “Let’s talk about how we can make the Pheasant even better.”
Da raises an eyebrow, making no effort to hide his scepticism. “Even better? What’s wrong with the way things are?”
“Nothing’s wrong. But with Jamie’s beer garden now open?—”
“Och, here we go.”
“—we need to make sure we stay competitive,” I press on.
Da leans back, arms folded defiantly across his chest. “The Pheasant’s been here for decades, Maisie. Folk know us. Trust us. We’ve always done well.”
“And we want it to keep doing well. That might mean trying out some new ideas so people have more reasons to come here—not just because they always have, but because they choose to.”
He grunts, unconvinced but listening.
“In cities, pubs have to innovate all the time because of competition. We don’t have as much of that here in Bannock, but that’s changing now, thanks to Jamie.”
“Fine.” His tone says it isn’t fine at all. “What exactly are you proposing, then?”
“I thought about promotional nights.” I flip through my notes. “Reduced prices on certain drinks to get people through the door. Or—and this one is my favourite—we expand our cocktail menu.”
Da squints at me like I’ve suggested we start serving sushi instead of steak pies. “Cocktails? We already do a decent gin and tonic if someone asks. What more do they need?”
“Think mojitos, cosmopolitans—drinks people are used to seeing in city bars.”
“And you think folk round here want that stuff? A pint of lager or a dram of whisky is what they’re after. Maybe a glass of wine. Not some fancy concoction with umbrellas sticking out the top.”
“First off, you don’t put umbrellas in mojitos or cosmopolitans. Second, it’s not just about giving people what they already drink, it’s about tempting them to try something new—and to pay a premium price for the experience. We could brand our cocktails as the perfect treat for a summer’s day. That might just attract people here rather than to Jamie’s beer garden.”
He looks distinctly unimpressed.
“We could use local spirits and ingredients,” I add. “That could be a real selling point! Our cocktails could offer a uniquely Bannock experience.”
He scratches his chin thoughtfully but doesn’t look entirely convinced yet. “Sounds like a lot of faff to me. Measuring fancy ingredients, shaking things around—aye, no thanks.”
“How about I take full responsibility for the cocktails, then? You wouldn’t have to lift a finger—you could just leave it to me.”
There’s a long pause while Da studies me, considering this offer. Finally he exhales and shrugs in reluctant surrender. “Fine, if you’re that determined, try it out. But don’t expect me to go mixing anything myself!”
“Agreed!” I say quickly before he can change his mind. “And we could even create a signature cocktail for the Pheasant—something unique that visitors will remember us by.” I tap my pen against my notebook, thinking aloud. “Maybe something bright green? We could use Midori and whisky, then top it with a cucumber slice shaped like the Loch Ness Monster. Tourists might?—”
“No! I’m drawing the line there. That’s way too gimmicky.”
“Okay, maybe it is a bit,” I concede with a grin. “But there’s got to be something we can come up with. Something that captures the spirit of Scotland and the Highlands without veering into tacky territory. Hmm... leave it with me.”
“I intend to do just that.” He pushes himself up from the table. “Look, you clearly want to try new things, and that’s fine by me, but I’ll be leaving the work to you. Me? I’ve been doing things the same way for decades and I’m not about to change now.”
“Wait a second! I hadn’t even got onto the subject of social media yet. I was wanting to talk about our online presence because I’m sure there’s loads more we could be doing. What do you think about?—”
Da cuts me off with a laugh. “Maisie, social media? You’re asking me ? Lass, I can barely figure out how to turn on my phone most days. You’re the brains when it comes to that stuff. For the longest time we were the main boozer in town, so we never had to bother much with any of that faff. But if you reckon it’ll help us keep up with Jamie, go ahead. Just don’t expect me to get involved.”
I smile and nod. “Aye. Thanks, Da. I’ll take care of it.”
Unfortunately, after Da leaves, my thoughts stray straight back to Jamie. Jamie, who gets panic attacks when it rains heavily.
The whole point of the meeting with Da was to keep my brain occupied—anything to stop thinking about him —but now I’m alone, it’s like trying to hold back a flood with a tea towel.
When he told me to get out of his car that night, it wasn’t because of anything I’d said or done. It was solely about the rain. I should really have pieced it together sooner. Everyone in Bannock remembers the crash. Mairi and Angus McIntyre weren’t just Jamie’s parents, they were part of the fabric of our community. Their sudden deaths shook us all. But I’d no idea that Jamie—the perpetual joker—carried a mental scar that could be triggered by something as simple as a change in the weather.
I shake my head sharply, willing these thoughts away. I can’t let myself get sidetracked.
Even if knowing about that vulnerability does endear him to me more than I’d like. Even if yesterday’s sex was...
Christ. No. Not going there.
I refuse—outright refuse—to think about the rough warmth of his hands as he gripped my waist. Or the woodsy, masculine scent of him that seems to have taken permanent residence in my senses. Or the way he’d filled me perfectly, stretching me open as his hips drove into mine like he was staking some primal claim. Or that low, needy groan he made just before he let go inside me. Or how his face tightened as he came—jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut like he couldn’t bear how good it felt...
Ugh! Seriously? Now? Thanks, brain. He’s supposed to be my competition—not my weakness.
In an attempt to distract myself, I grab my phone and check the Pheasant’s social media accounts. Our online presence is pretty lacklustre—a handful of half-hearted posts about quiz nights, the most recent one from a few weeks ago when I ran the Bannock-themed pub quiz. Da’s right: up until now social media has never exactly been a priority for us. But it’s time to change that.
I’ll admit, my expertise with technology leans more towards conquering virtual dungeons than crafting a killer marketing strategy, but... maybe some of the skills are transferable?
While I put together tonight’s pub quiz on my laptop, I play videos on my phone about growing a social media presence (multitasking for the win). Even after we open for business and regulars start trickling in—more, thankfully, than on the beer garden’s opening day—my mind keeps wandering back to what I’ve learned. It’s not about shoving promotions down people’s throats. “Sell, sell, sell!” doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s about creating content people actually want to engage with.
But what kind of general-interest content can you create for a small Highland pub? Here’s another photo of someone holding a pint! Hardly riveting stuff...
As a test, I record a few videos—shots of food being served and locals laughing—but not anything worth posting.
The problem niggles at me all night, lingering through last orders and beyond, as I scrub tables and sweep floors. It beats thinking about Jamie anyway.
Freshly showered and tucked up under my duvet, I watch yet another research video on my laptop, jotting down ideas in a notebook balanced on my knees. Showcasing local suppliers? Highlighting quirky regulars? Sharing cocktail tutorials? By the time I finally switch everything off and set my notebook aside, my eyes are burning from staring at screens for so long. And I still don’t feel like I’ve cracked it.
As if on cue, my phone buzzes with a message in the Scottish Sirens group chat.
Iona
Anyone else staying up for tonight’s episode of Highland Legacy?
God, it’s already 1:57 a.m.! Just three minutes until the new episode drops in the UK to match its US broadcast time. (Because even though the show is filmed in Scotland with a cast full of British actors, its creators are, naturally, all about reeling in that huge American audience.) Normally I wait until morning to watch, but tonight? My brain is too wired with new ideas to even consider sleeping anytime soon.
Maisie
I am! Also, there’s something big I’ve been keeping from you and Cat—proper juicy gossip—but I’ll tell you tomorrow.
Iona
Don’t leave us hanging!
Maisie
Tomorrow. For now, let’s enjoy tonight’s episode.
Cat doesn’t respond—she’s probably fast asleep already. It’s got to be a first, her being the sensible one of the three.
The episode opens with calamity: waves crash against a besieged coastal village as a massive kraken coils its tentacles around rooftops and fishing boats. Callum, the roguishly handsome fire mage introduced this season, charges into action—a living inferno amidst the chaos—to rescue Isla, the enigmatic but powerful water mage. Their elemental magic collides spectacularly: blistering flames meeting rushing waters in a clash that sends steam billowing through the air. Even as they fight side by side against destruction, it’s impossible not to notice how tension crackles between them like another force of nature.
It’s an exciting start, but things really ramp up when halfway through the episode comes the scene, the one fans online have been speculating about for weeks now. We all knew it was only a matter of time before Callum and Isla surrendered to the desire they obviously feel for one another.
Under a pale moon in an ancient stone circle, they meet again, only this time it isn’t a common enemy that brings them together but raw need. Things start slowly, charged glances melting into tentative touches, until restraint shatters entirely. Clothes tumble away like fallen leaves on the breeze. The show delivers on its usual no-holds-barred nudity policy, and let’s just say both actors are easy on the eyes—with their clothes on and without.
The man playing Callum is objectively attractive, like the human embodiment of a Greek statue come to life. But, to me at least, he just doesn’t compare to Jamie. And so, instead of appreciating what’s right in front of me, my traitorous mind drifts back to yesterday. To Jamie’s hands sliding over me, his body pressing close, solid and scorching-hot against mine like he’d been made just for me...
Argh! Stop it, brain! Banish those thoughts immediately!
I force my attention back to the screen, and thankfully it doesn’t take long for Highland Legacy to pull me back under its spell. Because what’s more impressive than the actors’ physiques is the way their magic comes alive as their passion crescendoes. Callum’s ribbons of fire twist through Isla’s streams of water in an otherworldly display above them, sparks hissing and crackling while glowing golden symbols form on the mages’ flushed skin. Steam rises from them both, coiling into the night air as guttural moans echo off the towering stones surrounding them.
Thanks to Callum’s fire magic, it’s easily one of the hottest scenes Highland Legacy has ever aired—pun very much intended. In fact, it might even give the infamous body-painting scene a run for its money. But just as I’m about to crown it the steamiest moment in the show’s history, something unexpected steals my attention—and this time, it isn’t Jamie. No, it’s the stone circle. As the camera pans out in a wide arc, capturing the fiery and watery tendrils entwining above, I realise I know the place. Not just from TV but from real life. It’s barely a half hour’s drive from Bannock. Oh my God, did they really film this scene there?
I grab my phone and go onto social media. Unsurprisingly, viewers (mostly American at this hour) are already losing their minds over the scene. #HighlandLegacy is trending, and my feed is flooded with posts, many featuring blurry screenshots marked NSFW: Click to reveal .
Wow. How do actors do it? Strip down, bare it all—literally everything—and know that within seconds of broadcast their bodies will be screenshotted, GIFed, zoomed in on, and shared across every corner of the globe? Fame must come with an extraordinary level of fearlessness. Or maybe just really good lighting.
Before I can spiral into a full-blown analysis of celebrity courage, an idea flickers to life in my brain, a suggestion for marketing content that might actually work . Something people might just stop to watch. Something that could give Jamie’s beer garden a run for its money.
And just like Callum’s fire magic twisting around Isla’s streams of water, my thoughts start swirling together into something bold, something exciting—something I can’t wait to try out.