1. Thomas

CHAPTER 1

Thomas

I almost change my mind about this trip at least ten times on my way to the airport. Even after my bags have been checked and I've made it through security and passport control, I'm still wrestling with myself.

Am I making a huge mistake? Is this going to come back and bite me in the ass in ways I can't possibly imagine right now?

Looking around the private lounge area of Heathrow in London, I sip my can of cola and remind myself that literally no one here knows my intended destination. Hell, I doubt anyone knows who I even am. Hockey isn't so big here.

There won't be anything stopping me from changing my mind once I land in Bali, and that thought soothes me. Unless I want to create a scene, I'll soon be getting on that plane regardless. But if I really don't think it'll be worth the risk, I can just cancel my reservation and book somewhere else. Sitting on a beach for ten days will still be very much appreciated, even if it wasn't what I had in mind.

Relieved, I exhale and also remind myself that I'm not doing a damn thing wrong. Simply private. I was lucky enough to have had a strong support network to come out as gay when I was still playing pro. Now that I'm retired, it's even less of an issue. In fact, the internet seems desperate for me to find a boyfriend.

The issue is keeping the kind of boyfriend I want behind closed doors. People are mean and opinionated. There's a high chance they won't understand that what I want is perfectly fine between consenting adults.

More than fine. God, I yearn for it.

After my knee got blown out in a matter of seconds and ended my career, I was rich enough that I could have never worked again, even though I was only thirty-five. That's not in my nature, though. Besides, Mama and Abuela raised me better than to sit around on my ass. So I threw myself into helping others by creating a foundation for under privileged kids to learn to play hockey, and then I set up several college scholarships in my name.

In doing all that, I discovered the thing that gives me even more joy and fulfillment than being out on the ice.

Helping people. Caring for people.

That's what I want in a boyfriend.

Yeah, yeah. I'm sure there are a lot of sweet guys out there who would enjoy being doted on, but I'm not talking about a sugar baby. I want a baby boy.

It's something I've only read about until now, but I've imagined it vividly for years. I want someone to call me Daddy and let me make sure he always has someone in his corner helping him with whatever he needs. Someone who enjoys letting all their cares go when they become their littlest self.

That's where the court of public opinion gets blurry, and it scares the hell out of me that one wrong move with the wrong person could undo everything I've achieved in both of my careers. I help kids. Kids look up to me. This is completely separate from that, but some people might not see it that way.

I take another breath and finish off my soda. That's why going to a specifically kinky retreat is a good idea. Everyone there will be like-minded, and if I keep my sunglasses and baseball cap on and go by just ‘Tom' instead of my full name, with any luck, no one should recognize my true identity.

It's worth the risk if I can just let go of my fears. I have everything I want in life—loving family, friends, fans, money, a new career I love. Is it too much to hope for a relationship as well?

Maybe. But if I don't start trying, I'll never know. As I approach turning forty, this seems like the right time to get myself in the game. Fortunately, getting older goes in my favor. That's what a lot of people expect in a Daddy. But honestly? I don't care what age my boy is. Just so long as he lets me dote on him. I think that?—

"Is this seat taken?"

I blink myself out of my reverie and focus on the young man in front of me who is pointing at the armchair I didn't even notice had become vacated. His accent is astonishingly posh, even for a Brit. In many ways, he's quite unremarkable. Early to mid-twenties. Brown hair that just curls around his ears and a little scruff on his chin. Medium height and weight, wearing a light-blue Henley and dark jeans.

But the way his eyes sparkle makes my breath catch, if only for a second. I blink again, shaking my head as I remember what he asked.

"Oh, yeah," I say, wincing at my Brooklyn accent that sounds nasally to my ears in that moment. "The lady who was there took all her stuff, so I assume you're good to go."

"Thank you ever so much," he says with a beaming smile. Wow, he really sounds like he should be on one of those historical TV shows with all the ballgowns and hand fans that my big sister goes nuts for.

He drops into the seat and excitedly gets wireless headphones out of his backpack. Once they're settled on his head and he selects whatever he's listening to on his phone, he pulls out a notebook and starts scribbling.

It could be a diary entry. It could be a shopping list. All I know is that it's none of my business, and I need to stop staring at this guy. I try to tear my eyes away, but as I do, I spot a colorful plush parrot keyring on his backpack that makes me smile.

Cute.

As captivating as this young man is, I need to leave him be. He's going on vacation or possibly traveling for work or to visit family. At no point did he consent to being spied on. I guess I've just got romance on the brain. Usually, I don't look twice at adorable guys out in the wild. But something about this boy is absolutely captivating.

Man. Not boy.

Yeah, I need this retreat. I'm going to explode if I don't allow myself the space to express my needs soon. This innocent stranger is making all my Daddy instincts scream, and all he's doing is just sitting down.

To keep my eyes off him, I pull out my phone and start looking through the retreat itinerary options again. There are all kinds of events to cater to different kinds of kink, so I'm not sure how many of them I'll be interested in attending. But they could be illuminating if nothing else.

I'm not into bondage or pain play, but I might learn something. Spanking is probably going to come up if my hypothetical baby boy acts out, and it would be good to understand that better. I hate the idea of hurting someone special to me, but logically I know it can be extremely cathartic. Littles often need boundaries set for them, and it will be my job to guide my boy and help him safely. It sounds daunting, but this is all part of the learning curve I'm hoping for from this retreat.

Whatever the case, I'm always willing to expand my horizons. I'll give anything a go. Saying ‘yes' more than ‘no' is what's got me this far in my extraordinary life.

The sandcastle competition, pool disco, and finger-painting session, on the other hand, sound just wonderful. If I can find a boy to share them with. Maybe I'll be able to meet one at those events, if not before? There's always hope.

Sensing movement, I glance up and see the adorable young man hurriedly gathering up his things and rushing off. My heart drops, but I'm being ridiculous if I thought I was going to speak to him any further. However, his departure does prompt me to check the display board, and my heart leaps a fraction when I see that my gate has been announced. Excellent.

I also get my belongings together at a more leisurely pace, and as I stand, I give the area a once-over to ensure I haven't forgotten anything. That's when my eye catches something tucked in the corner of the armchair where the cute guy was just sitting.

Oh, no.

Before I even pluck it out, I can see it's a passport. The British one is different from mine, but it's immediately obvious what it is. Worse than that, it's got his boarding pass wedged in between the pages.

Panic grips my chest on his behalf. Will he notice in time? I should give it to a member of staff at the lounge so if he comes back and asks, they'll have it kept safe for him. But leaving such an important task in the hands of a stranger makes me uneasy, so on the off chance his gate is on the way to mine, I check the ticket.

The first thing I notice is his name. Arlington Hythe-Wandsworth. Wow. That sure is something. Then I look for a gate number.

Holy shit.

We're on the same flight? What the hell?

I don't have time to wonder at how small the chances of that happening are. Instead, I slip his documents into my breast pocket and race out of the private lounge, hoping that I don't miss him coming back this way.

Luckily, the gate isn't too far away. Heathrow is an enormous airport, after all. As I approach the waiting area, my second bit of good fortune is clear. There, kneeling on the ground, frantically emptying his bag out, is my young man.

Arlington.

He looks close to tears, and my heart aches. So I waste no time running up to him, already fishing out his passport and the accompanying boarding pass, holding it out as I jog up to him and crouch down.

"You left this in the lounge," I say with a grin, ignoring my protesting knee after such a short sprint. The damn thing can take a back seat for once.

Arlington's eyes go wide as he absorbs the sight of me and what's in my hand. "Oh goodness gracious me!" he cries, snatching the passport before opening it up to verify his ticket is also there. "You absolute gent! I was almost in a proper bother there!" He clutches the documents to his chest and gives me a watery smile like sunshine peeking through the clouds. "Thank you."

My heart flips, but I do my best to ignore it. I just need to count my blessings that I got another chance to see this sweet guy, but I realize that it probably doesn't mean anything. "No problem, man. Just make sure you put everything back in that bag so you don't lose anything this time."

Okay…so I couldn't resist the tiniest bit of Daddying. But the way he beams up at me makes it worth it.

"I will, I promise. Thank you ever so much once again!" Damn. The way this kid talks is killing me. It's just too stinking cute.

I hear them calling first class, so with a grimace, I stand and wink down at the young man. "Safe flight."

"You, too," he says earnestly.

It's hard to walk away. I really want to watch over him and make sure that he's got all his stuff safely packed back in the bag. But I've done my good deed for the day. He's got his essential documents in hand, and now our little meet-cute is over.

There's a spring in my step, however. I know it's wrong, but I checked, and he's not getting off in Singapore. He's going all the way to Bali, just like me. That's a lot of hours to be cooped up in a tin can together.

Who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again.