Page 4 of A Tall Order (Shade Grown Coffee Boys #1)

Remington Properties isn’t the largest property management business in the city, but we have a few decent clients under contract and several smaller ones. Enough to have our own office building in the city with a team of ten and contracts to other businesses in the area.

I use the excuse to see Austin once more on my way to work. I want to reach out and hug him, but he's at work, so I settle on gripping his shoulder. He looks more relaxed today than when I stopped by yesterday evening. Where there were tears yesterday, he's smiling today. I get my drink and turn to look for him, but he's already back in his office.

The meeting starts out with an itemized list, by property and even apartment dwelling because my assistant is the literal best woman ever, of the repairs that need to be completed. There are two urgent repairs but the rest can be scheduled within the month. With the colder months coming up, I also want to get checks of furnaces and air filters before the three commercial buildings start cranking heat in the offices.

The second order of the meeting is past due payments and collections. It is my least favorite part of every meeting. I know that people fall on hard times and need help, but there is only so much that we can do as a company. Contracts are binding and the owners of these buildings are counting on us to uphold them. There is only one location that is past due this month.

“If they don’t pay at least the past due amount in the next fifteen days, we’ll need to send them a letter.” Everyone sitting around the table knows I hate doing that. I have a soft spot for people. I’m not greedy, I don’t do this job for the money. I do it because I like the honest work and making sure that people have a safe place to work and live.

“I’ll try to contact them this afternoon and see if we can work out a payment plan at least, Remington.” Clara, one of the two accountants on the team, says.

“Thank you, Clara. I appreciate it.”

I’m not a pushover. Not at work, at least. But I appreciate her offer to find a solution for the family. I’ll follow up with her on Monday about it. I jot down a note on my legal pad.

“The final thing we need to discuss is marketing,” Josiah, the supervisor in that department, says. There are three of them since marketing is a big thing for us. “We’ve been in talks with a few places, but there’s a networking business event at the end of the month that we’ve signed up for. So we’ll need to make a banner and some fliers. I wanted to bring it forward to discuss what should be included on it. Plus, Remington, we’ll need some more business cards made up.”

I add that to the ever growing list of things I need to do. The business cards aren’t hard. I just have to reorder our stock. I hope it’s a good thing that we’re having to reorder, though we haven’t had many new properties sign with us in the last year.

By the time the meeting is over, my coffee from this morning is long gone and I feel like I need another. I know I shouldn’t, though. I don’t claim to be the healthiest man alive, but I take pride in how I look and maintaining the muscles that are fighting to disappear as I get older.

The first thing I do when I’m back in my office is check my phone. It’s almost three in the afternoon and I have a text from Austin. The boy and his mom collected the koala. Watching the way Austin clung to it last night, crying, broke my heart. I should get him one to keep, add to his collection.

I pulled up a chair behind him and did what I could to give him comfort while he grieved his Daddy and my best friend. I realized in that moment that I never should have let us drift apart. Life got busy for both of us, but that wasn’t an excuse and I see that now.

“I’m sorry Paul,” I whisper to the empty room. “I’ll do better by him and by you. I promise. I miss you, man. We both do.”

After a moment and a deep breath, I compose myself enough to focus back on work. I have two more hours and then I’m heading to my mom’s for dinner with the family. We are celebrating my sister’s birthday and I need to stop by the house to grab her gift. After getting Austin’s text, I kind of forgot to grab a couple of things from the house.

The business cards are ordered and I’ve scheduled a follow up email to go out to Clara for Monday asking for an update. The last hour of the day, I’m on the phone with the repair guys. One of the apartments has a leak. It’s only on the ground floor, thankfully. It means they won’t have to go floor-to-floor looking for water damage beyond that. They schedule an emergency repair for six PM. It’ll cost an after-hour fee, but the building owner OK'd it through email before I confirmed. I went ahead and scheduled the air filter and furnace checks with the same company for each building too, since they do air and plumbing services.

“You guys are too good to us,” I end the conversation ten minutes to quitting time. “Seriously, I owe you and your whole crew some beers for all the work you do for us.”

“I’m pretty sure none of them would turn that down, but it’s the job Remington. We’re just happy you’re keeping us in business. Have a great weekend and I’ll send you invoices on Monday.”

“Sounds great, thanks.”

I hang up the phone and shoot a text to my sister that I’ll be at Mom’s right on time. She is always getting on me for showing up ten minutes late to every family function. It just happens. She texts back a thumbs up and nothing else. Such the conversationalist, really. I finish my day and head to my car.

My house is about twenty minutes from the office building. I run in quickly, grabbing the gift bag with a candle in my sister's favorite scent and a bag of her favorite candies. She's told me more than once that she keeps a stash in their bathroom cabinet so she doesn't have to share with her kid or husband. I find it hilarious.

Austin texts me during the get together and my sister just happens to be beside me. And a snoop. The message is innocent, but she still raises an eyebrow at me .

Austin

Just got home. I didn’t realize you had leftover spaghetti and I’m totally eating that tonight. Thanks for being amazing.

“Don’t even go there,” I say, knowing the conclusions that she is jumping to in her scheming brain. I don't know how much she remembers of the few times she's met Austin. He and Paul came to a few events where my family was as well. “Yesterday was the anniversary of Paul’s death. I went over to make sure he was okay.”

“Oh shit,” she mumbles. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about that. I didn’t even call to check on you. How are you?”

“I’m fine, really. We made dinner and talked, hung out for a while. It was nice.”

“How is he doing?” she says. “You should bring him around. I'm sure Mom would love to see him again. We have Terry's party in a couple of weeks.”

Terry is my nephew. He’ll be seven soon and a is crazy talented kid when it comes to instruments. I swear that kid can pick up anything and know how to play it like a pro in less than a week.

“I’ll see if he’s up for it,” I say. “I don’t think he’s done much socializing since Paul’s death. I was worried about him yesterday.”

“You’ve always been a great friend to both of them, Rem. But consider this a blanket invitation for him to join in whenever. You know Mom won’t care. ”

“I know she won’t.” There always seems to be a random person at most of the Higgins' gatherings that someone has invited.

The cake and ice cream is brought out then and thankfully distracts the birthday girl long enough for me to send a text back without her reading over my shoulder.

“It kind of feels weird to say welcome home to you,” I say with a smile as I help Austin get the grocery bags out of his car. He informed me today, after I was already at his house, that he would stop by the store and pick up some fresh cleaning supplies he knew he was low on. He's a sneaky one, because he knows I would have offered to pick them up. It's Friday and I closed up the office early, dropping by the store for a handful of items myself already.

I notice something fluffy in one of the bags and pause to examine it. I look back up at Austin. “Did you buy yourself a stuffie?”

Austin just nods and heads inside the open door with two bags in his hands. I smile at it, knowing that I have a nearly identical one waiting for him inside as well. I grab the bag with the stuffie and the other with a new mop head and trail behind him, making sure his car is locked.

He’s standing by the table, picking at his nails again. I can tell something is on his mind. I set the bags down and gently run one hand up his left arm. “Austin? What’s wrong?”

Austin doesn’t answer and I move one hand to stop his fingers from picking at his skin and the other to lift his chin so his eyes meet mine. I can see he’s fighting back tears. I soften my voice, dipping my head just slightly. “Austin?”

“I didn’t want to give the koala back,” he admits and a single tear falls down to his cheek. I wipe it away and pull him in for a hug. I know he doesn’t like to be squeezed so I keep my arms loose around him, rubbing softly up and down his back. “Of course I gave it back with a smile and the little boy was so happy, but I wanted one too.”

“That’s okay, Austin. You can buy yourself whatever you want, especially if it brings you comfort.” I take his hand and move him from the table to the living room, specifically to the couch. I give him a second before tilting my head for him to look. I can see his lips turn up in a smile.

"You got me a koala?" He turns his whole body to look at me. His smile turns to confusion. "Why'd you buy me one?"

I flounder for words. I don't know why I bought it. I felt like he would want one to add to this collection. The other koala looked cute next to the others while I fed him his spaghetti. "I just thought you would like it," I say honestly. "I can take it back if you'd rather keep your own."

"No," Austin says quickly. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing at his reaction. "I mean, I'll keep both of them. They can be friends together."

Austin steps forward and wraps his arms around me. He's tall, a few inches shorter than my height, and fits perfectly in my arms. I feel his chest rise and fall against mine as he takes a deep, steadying breath.

“Can I ask you a question?” I try to keep my voice even.

“Yeah.” The single word sounds so pitiful coming from him. But he pulls back and looks me straight in the eye.

“Would you be okay if I bought you some other things too? I noticed the other day that you don’t have a lot in here. Maybe it would help you relax more.”

“I have most of my stuff in the extra bedroom,” he admits. “I don’t go in there a lot unless I’m really missing my Daddy. It makes me sad to see everything packed up.”

“Oh, sweetie.” I pull him in for another hug, letting him bury his face in the crook of my neck as he cries. “You’re okay, Austin. We can get you new things or I can help you go through the stuff and organize everything. I bet that extra room would make a great playroom like you and your Daddy used to have.”

“That’s what I wanted, but it just felt weird living alone like this. And thinking about having to buy all my own… uh, supplies.” I nod, understanding what he means. I remember Austin would occasionally wear diapers and Paul would almost always have him dressed in the cutest outfits. The boys at the club were just that, more Middle and Boy age than little. I'm not particular, but I have a soft spot for little Littles.

“Do you want to go through it this weekend?” I prompt. “I’m free until Monday if you want to. You can get as much Little time in as you need and we’ll get this place looking sparkly.”

I watch Austin’s eyes widen minutely and I hope it’s in excitement. “Really? You would do that for me? I know we planned tonight, Remington, but you don’t have to waste your whole weekend with me.”

“Austin Westcott.” I turn on my Daddy voice and that definitely gets his attention. “You are not a waste of time. Nor is helping you. You know me well enough that I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it. If you want me to, I’m more than happy to hang out and help.”

“Okay.” Austin nods once. “I’d like that.”

“Now, I’m going to check on the chili I’m making and put the cornbread on. We’re going to tackle cleaning off the shelves beside the fireplace and the bookshelf first, okay?” I grip Austin’s hand tightly when I see him worry his bottom lip. “I promise that we will keep all of his stuff safe, okay?”

I've been here for an hour, letting myself in with the key he keeps hidden under a flower pot sitting on his porch. I started the food to cook slowly on the stove but then went ahead and swept the kitchen and dining room areas and vacuumed the area rug in the living room. I didn’t touch the more private rooms without Austin here. So dusting and spot cleaning is really all there is left to do.

“I’m going to go change and pick up my other clothes real quick,” Austin says. “The food smells good, though. Thank you for cooking again.”

“Hey, maybe we can do tacos tomorrow night? I’ll even write down the recipe for you to keep.” Austin’s smile at that suggestion is infectious. We split ways and I head to the kitchen to check on the chili. I would have made it in a slow cooker, but Austin doesn’t have one. So it’s in a pot on the stove. The cornbread is nothing fancy, just the boxed stuff I picked up.

I navigate the kitchen easily now, already getting familiar with where things are placed. The muffin tin is shoved in a cabinet alongside a couple of other glass and dark pans. Maybe organizing the kitchen could be added to the list as well this weekend.

I really don’t mind helping Austin. He keeps his home clean, but I know that Paul did a lot of the upkeep around their house. Austin wasn’t incompetent, he helped Paul from time to time with cleaning and general maintenance of their house. But he spent a handful of evenings each week in Little space, which Paul would always clean up. On a good day, Tornado Austin could do some damage.

I slide the muffin tray into the preheated oven and move back to sort through the cleaning items he bought. The stuffie is adorable. It’s very similar to the one from Wednesday, but slightly larger. I move to the living room to sit it on the middle cushion of the couch, next to the one I purchased. The one I got is holding a green plant in one hand. Paw. Paw?

“All done with the clothes.” Austin’s voice travels from beside me and I turn my head to see he’s in a pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. “Oh, I can just put them in my room with the others.”

“I think they're fine there for now,” I say. “But let’s get started, shall we? Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. I figure if you want to work on the bookshelf, I’ll clean the shelves since they’re a little higher up?”

“Sounds good to me.”

I smile and give him a quick nod before walking back to the table to grab the wood cleaner spray.

“Remington.” Austin is standing right behind me when I turn around. His arms reach up and wrap around my neck and he hugs me tightly. “Thank you for all of this. It means a lot.”

“Of course, Austin.” I hug him back, taking advantage that he’s okay with my squeezing him closer to me this time. “After dinner, we’ll do some Little time until bed, okay?”

“Did you want to stay here tonight instead of driving back and forth?” Austin asks when he pulls back. We grab the necessary items and move back to our assigned spots for the tasks. “I only have the one bed, but I can easily sleep on the couch.”

“I’m not going to take your bed, Austin. I’ll be fine propping the recliner back and sleeping.”

Austin doesn’t argue and we get to cleaning. Austin makes a pit stop at the TV to pull up his music playlist so it isn’t just silence while we work. I take my time, keeping my promise to be careful with the pictures as I move them to spray and wipe the shelves. The lower two aren't bad, but the top one has a good layer of dust. Which would make sense because even I can barely reach it without a step ladder.

The photos are cute. One is early in Austin and Paul’s relationship. I recognize the pond behind them as the one where all the ducks live. The city even built little houses for them when they stopped migrating as people started feeding them on a regular basis. Another is of the two of them celebrating a birthday. I’m in the background of that one, but I don’t remember the person we were celebrating. The cheap party hats and smear of icing on Austin's face tell me what it was though.

The third one, up on the top shelf, is of Paul and Austin at what appears to be a tattoo shop. Austin is the one getting the tattoo, but Paul’s shoulder is in the frame. He got the tattoo two years into their relationship. It was Austin’s favorite flower but there were little dots and lines in two half circles on the upper and lower side of the flower. Neither of them would ever say what the design meant.

“Hey, Austin?” I turn around and hold the frame up. “What was the significance of the tattoo Paul got in this picture? He never did tell me. ”

Austin’s smile holds a reverent feel and his own hand travels to graze down his chest. I remember a flash of the tattoo I’d seen the other day. Maybe it's the one he was getting in the picture?

“It’s a private thing between us,” Austin finally says. “Maybe one day, though, I’ll tell you. I just— I want to keep that to myself for now.”

“Of course,” I say. I can’t lie; that comment has me curious. I look at the picture a moment longer before putting it back on the shelf. I finish up the other side in a few minutes and straighten the little figurines that line the fireplace mantle before turning back to Austin. He has all of the books stacked neatly around him and is spraying the bottom shelf. I offer a bit of advise to him. “If you want to start at the top, that way any dust that falls doesn’t go back on the clean shelves.”

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense. I was just already down here.” I step over to him and hold out a hand to help him back to his feet. “Thanks.”

“I’m going to go check on the food. Then we can eat and focus on the rest of the cleaning tomorrow. Sound good?”

“Are you okay if I have some Little time tonight still?” Austin glances over at me and then back to the task at hand.

“Of course, Austin. I told you, as much as you need. I can sort through things on my own if you want.” If it’s going to be too hard for you, is what I don’t say, but I think he understands.

“Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll react when we start going through things. It might be one of those fluid days for me, slipping in and out. I don’t even remember half the things I have packed away. It’ll be fun to go back through the clothes, though. I know there’s a few things I’d like to pull out for myself. ”

“That is one hundred percent okay with me,” I say earnestly. Austin's tone is definitely hinting at excitement the more we talk about going through the things in the extra bedroom. And I can’t lie; I’m excited at the prospect of playing that Daddy role for a few days instead of just a couple of hours this weekend.

The cornbread is cooked perfectly when I pull it out of the oven and I make sure to turn everything off. I scoop two ladles of the chili into Austin’s astronaut bowl and plop a piece of cornbread on top. I do the same for myself in a glass bowl and grab two bottles of water.

“Dinner is ready whenever you are,” I call across the house. There is a backdoor off the far side of the kitchen that leads to a small patio and a decent backyard. There is a chain link fence around his property but not much privacy from his neighbors on either side. There’s a tree that looks like it creates a nice, shaded area in the summer.

“I’m almost done putting these back on the shelves. Give me just a minute.”

“Take your time, Austin.” I sit down and watch him gently lift two or three books at a time, using both hands, and place them exactly where they were on the shelves. Once or twice, he wipes the cover or spine of one book before placing it back. When he finally turns back toward me, he’s smiling and I return it easily. “Feel better?”

“I do,” Austin says. “I know I’ve been avoiding it, so thank you for pushing me to get it done. Thank you for helping.”

Austin sits at the table where I placed his food. The table is longer than wide, with two chairs on the sides and one each at the head and foot. I’m sitting in a side chair and Austin sits in the chair with his back facing the living room .

“This looks amazing. Smells good, too.” I grab my cornbread and crumble it over the chili, using the spoon to mix it all together. “Ugh, Daddy used to do that too.”

“Oh, that’s right.” I mentally slap my palm to my forehead. “You don’t like your food touching. I’m sorry, I completely forgot.”

“This is fine,” Austin says quickly. “Soups and chili I’m not too weird about because I like to dip my sandwiches and stuff in them. But other meals like chicken, mashed potatoes, and such, yeah.”

“I’ll remember that next time,” I promise.