Page 4 of The Back Forty
Regan just smileslike she was expecting thatresponse.
“You won’t have to,” she says easily. “She’s completely capable. Strong sales background. Years of proven success selling difficult products in Silicon Valley.”
I scoff. “So, she's some tech nerd. That has nothing to do with what we sell here.”
Regan shrugs. “Sales are sales. The relationship building takes time, sure, but the skills are transferable. She just needs a chance. I believe she'll catch on quickly if you'll let her.”
I shake my head, already annoyed at the idea of someone tagging along, screwing up my carefully built routine.
“Look,” Regan continues, ever the peacemaker. “All you need to do is look at your plate and pass off the things that drain your time. Start small. The little things. You can give her menial administrative tasks if it makes your life easier, but I think once you see her skillset, you'll feel comfortable giving her more. And make sure she’s booked on all your trips so she can shadow you.She’s sharp, Lawson. She’ll pick it up fast. She's an assistant, so let her assist you.”
I huff out a breath, arms crossed tight. Regan’s grin widens, like she sees right through me.
“Who knows?” she says lightly, eyes gleaming with something too smug for my liking. “Before long, she might have it alldown.” She lifts a brow. “And then maybe…” her smile deepens. “Youwon’t have to travel so much... maybe you'll find some time to date a nice girl in town. Maybe you'll find some time to fall in love... settle down... have more kids... be around more often to watch those kids grow up since your assistant can handle all the work...”
Regan’s like the unofficial manager of our chaotic family empire, the glue that holds everything together when things start slipping through the cracks. She jumps from one crisis to the next, wherever she’s needed.
When my youngest brother and her twin Colt was locked up, she stepped in to run the egg farm full-time while Cash took over the distillery. And when Colt got out, she pivoted, helping get the restaurant and brewery up and running. At one point, she even managed a small garden and had my son selling fruits and veggies on the side of the road, learning about the value of hard work and money.
Now, she’s managing our newest opportunity, a wedding business born out of her new home with her husband. She’s also occasionally assisting me with marketing, sometimes stepping in during the egg farm’s busy season, other times helping out at the distillery when production ramps up.
She’s good at it. Toogood at it. Because now she’s convinced herself that Ineed help, too.
And look, I’m not an asshole. Really, I’m not. I just like working alone. I preferit. I travel alone, plan alone, handle all the marketing and sales for our businesses alone. Maybe it’s because I’ve been a single dad for thirteen years, building a life where it’s just my son Beckham and me or maybe it's because I prefer quality time with myself over everyone else. At thirty-seven years old, I don't feel the need to make new friendships.
When I found out Beckham's mom was pregnant, I knew I wanted to give him something solid—a home of our own, a place that was ours.So, I built it. A house on the family farm property all the way in the back forty, the most remote portion of the land. It's close to my siblings and dad who could step in when I needed to travel, but far enough away to feel like I had my own life. And ever since then, I’ve lived my life on my terms.
I’m a single guy and unlike my brother Cash who recently married his girlfriend and the mayor of our small town, Rae Black, or Colt who was just looking for the right one and found it in his best friend's little sister, Molly Patrick, I simply don't have the time or energy to invest in a relationship.
Beckham’s mom, Melissa, is a wonderful woman. My college sweetheart. We lovedeach other, but when she got pregnant, we both knew we weren’t end game.So, we made a decision. An amicableone. We separated, co-parented, and we’ve done a damn good job at it.
She got married when Beckham was three. Her husband and my son’s stepfather, Heath, is a great guy and someone that I've occasionally kicked back and had a few beers with at family gatherings. Steady. Reliable. Someone I trust to be in my son’s life when I'm not there. It all worked out. Everyone’s happy. We’rehappy. We’ve built this solid, steady rhythm over the years as two separate families working together seamlessly for Beckham's good. I never wanted to throw a wrench in thatby introducing someone new who wouldn’t get it or respect it. And now? Beckham’s a teenager. We’ve made it this far and I wouldn’t change a thing.
So yeah, I likedoing things on my own. It works for me. Which is why this whole new hiresituation is rubbing me the wrong way. But Regan’s got that look in her eyes. The one that says she’s already won. The one that reminds me she’s always been a little too good at getting her way and I can’t ever tell her no.
I sigh, running a hand down my face. “Fine. I’ll give her a chance.”
Regan beams at me. “This is going to be good, trust me.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Sure. So, when does she start again?”
Her grin widens. “Tomorrow.”
I close my eyes for a second, rubbing my temples because of courseit’s tomorrow. And of coursethis is happening during the exact same week I’m supposed to be flying out to the West Coast for two critical meetings—one with a major social media influencer who interviews sustainable companies (which could give our egg brand a huge boost) and another with the largest grocery chain in the region, who I’m hoping to convince to carry our new line of spiked seltzers.
The seltzers aren’t technicallydone yet, but Colt and the guys at the distillery are working on them. They’ll be small-batch, all-natural ingredients, organic flavoring, clean branding. If all goes well, we’ll have them ready for launch justin time for a limited summer release. But now, thanks to my so-thoughtful siblings, I apparently have a shadowfor all of it.
I exhale slowly. “I guess I need to book her on my flight.”
Regan pats my chest, muchtoo pleased with herself. “I guess you do.”
Chapter 3 – Lawson
“What are you drinking tonight?” my sister-in-law Molly asks, setting a coaster down in front of me before wiping her hands over the front of her shirt. The fabric stretches tightly against her small baby bump as she adjusts herself with a smile. She leans on the bar, her gaze soft and steady as she waits.
“Whiskey. Please.”
She nods once, all business, and reaches under the counter. Three fingers of our best house pour glug into the glass before she slides it across the smooth oak to me. I take a slow sip, let the heat settle in my chest, and breathe out a sigh right as my younger brother Colt slides onto the stool beside me.
