Soft (A Little Older Duet #1)

Chapter 1

Paxton

“You’ve got to be fucking with me, right?” I growled at the man sitting across the table from me.

Holb Nekman, my agent, could be summed up in one word. Asshole. Granted, I knew this when I signed with him. It was part of his appeal.

But I always believed his ways would be beneficial to me. I thought he’d fight for what I wanted instead of busting my balls.

Guess I was wrong.

“What’s got your britches twisted, boy?” Holb grunted. “I did you a solid. Got you an in with a hard-to-reach group of people. By the time you go pro, you’ll have any and all the sponsorships you want. Have dinner with them and watch the red carpet roll out.”

“And for what? Selling my goddamn soul?” It took everything in me not to raise my voice. Had we been somewhere private, I would have.

Now it made sense why he wanted to do dinner out instead of meeting at his office. Holb knew I could be a hothead when it came to my career. I couldn’t afford to be a pushover.

While I’d never turn violent, my mouth had gotten me in trouble more than once. It wasn’t in me to keep quiet when I felt passionately about something. It was just in my blood, same as my pops and his father before him.

Holb took a swig of his bourbon and sighed. “How is this selling your soul? Others would kill to be in your position. I don’t see the big deal.”

“You don’t see the big deal?” I leaned forward, getting closer so he could see my rage.

“The big deal is that you just put me in leagues with some of the most homophobic people in existence all while knowing I’m gay.

You want me to support and connect with people who believe I shouldn’t have any rights.

So yeah, Holb, it is a big fucking deal. ”

Leaning back, I took a breath as I assessed what needed to come next. Hiring him was meant to be my way into the league. It was supposed to be the jumpstart to a trajectory I’d dreamed of since childhood.

And yet the words “You’re fired” came to mind easily after his screw up. There was no point in keeping someone on my team who didn’t understand basic decency.

He laughed like one of those cartoon villains at my declaration. “You don’t have the option to fire me, boy. I’ve got you until the contract ends in two years.”

Tossing my napkin on my plate, I stood to my full height. Even if Holb had risen too, I’d have still towered over him. At six foot four, not many people could meet me eye to eye. And, well, sitting down made him look even more pitiful.

“Actually, you don’t get to keep me, dumbass. My contract had a clause about ethical abuse. I specifically had it put in by my lawyer that if you did anything to compromise my values, then everything would dissolve. So yeah, you’re fired. Get fucked.”

A smattering of applause went up around the restaurant as I left. I smirked knowing a few people probably caught the dispute on camera too. Not that it mattered much. If asked, I’d gladly tell people why I left one of the biggest agents in the area to forge ahead on my own.

The media around me coming out would be huge if linked to this. I had no doubt the company would pull their deal too, once they knew. Not that it mattered since I wouldn’t touch them in a million years.

Cold mountain air whipped across my face as I stepped outside. There was nothing quite like it, and though I’d have loved living here, I knew my time was done. I needed to be where I knew others supported me. I needed to be with people who respected me.

And I already had a place in mind.

Bellport, Louisiana, was the center of the queer athlete network. The midsize city had grown over the last few years to be a safe haven for anyone who was queer or who wanted to be a supportive ally.

The minute I’d started getting word about the happenings there, I put them on my radar to research their baseball team. I was a nosy son of a bitch who wanted to keep my options open.

Funny how things worked out I guess.

Pulling out my phone, I called the one person I knew would have my back. It rang twice before he answered, the sound of a game on in the background.

“Tell me something good,” my pops sang over the line. His customary greeting always brought a grin out of me.

I shook my head. “Fired Holb.”

The background noise disappeared. I knew then I had his full attention. “Repeat that for me, son. I think you just told me you fired that two-bit asshole of an agent after all this time. Please tell me I’m not hallucinating.”

“You’re not,” I replied around a laugh. “He’s really gone. Asshole tried to get me in with those fuckers over at CenterGain.”

Pops sputtered a string of cuss words. “Knew he was stupid, but this is major. Glad you kicked him to the curb. What’s your next move? Where are we headed?”

I smiled wider at his easy agreement. Since it was just the two of us, he always packed up and followed me wherever I went. Being retired had its benefits. Plus, he said it was great to make new friends in whatever place we landed.

When I wanted to switch to a private school for better access to coaching, he made it happen. The second a college offered me a full-ride to play for them, he was packing his bags. There’s never been a moment where I didn’t have his support.

“No big move just yet. Need to lock in a new agent and see about getting signed. How do you feel about Cajun cooking?”

He howled so loud I had to pull the phone back. The people shuffling around me on the sidewalk stared in confusion. I guess it wasn’t everyday you heard a grown man sound like a dying coyote on a cell phone.

When he finished, I put the device to my ear to see what the man had to say.

“Finally, I’m going to get some good food. None of this crunchy salad crap they always want to serve me. Deep fried and soaked in seasoning. You better get moving on the paperwork or whatever. I’m going to start looking for rentals. I already know where you want to go."

I heard the familiar click of his tongue that signaled he was going to hang up.

Shaking my head, I finally left the front of the restaurant to head to my car.

I always preferred driving myself, even though it would have been in my best interest to hire a vehicle and a guard with the way some people were.

Fans were wild cards. Sometimes they could be chill about meeting me. Other times, I worried they’d try to kidnap me and take me to their worship lair as a sacrifice. It was tricky to navigate being one of the top players in the whole fucking country.

Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone out to get me tonight. I made it to my car and back home without incident. The second I was tucked away inside, I grabbed my laptop and sank onto the couch.

My bookmarks tab held the keys to the kingdom. With a single click, I was able to pull up the website I needed first.

Grizzly Thorson, Sports Agent.

I stared at the plain website, noting for the millionth time how it looked. There was no character behind it. No flashy details like most agents had. Just simple colors and clean fonts.

For some reason that made me like him more. Grizzly seemed like the type of agent to care about the details for his clients. His focus wasn’t on getting attention or making himself look great.

Scrolling down the page brought me to the basic “contact me” box.

I’d typed and retyped what I wanted to send for months.

I figured reaching out to him wouldn’t do any harm, yet I’d held back given my relationship with Holb.

Monogamy was important to me, even when it came to my agents.

I was loyal beyond what most considered the standard.

The thought made me pause. I pushed the laptop away for a second as I pulled out my phone. I shot off an email to my lawyer outlining what to do about Holb, along with a request to look at any new paperwork that would come in soon.

With that handled, I tugged the laptop close again and went about writing to Grizzly. I wanted this man to be my agent so badly. And if I were being honest, I just wanted to meet him in person too. He was handsome as fuck. All barrel chested and hairy — a huge turn-on for me.

My attraction to him would have to take a backseat if he became my agent. I’d keep things professional to avoid being creepy.

Didn’t mean I couldn’t admire him from a distance.

Or up close, if he agreed to work with me.

I shook away the lusty thoughts to focus on my words. Making a good first impression was important. My gut told me this was it. This was the opening I’d been waiting for. The moment to shift everything to be my most authentic self.

From the extensive research I’d done, Grizzly was connected to most of the queer athletes in Bellport. Either he was personal friends with them, or he was their agent. The fact that they trusted him spoke volumes.

Instinct told me he was a good one. That he’d fight for me the right way.

I read over the message one last time, making sure everything was correct about my contact details. While I had hopes of reaching him this way, I wasn’t above flying down to him for something in person. No telling how backed up his inbox was.

After hitting send, I checked on my grades to verify there was nothing outstanding.

There were only a few more weeks of school left.

I’d worked hard to get most of the classwork itself done.

Finals were about the only thing I had left, but professors were known for throwing in a last-minute project or two. They claimed it kept us on our toes.

Once I knew I was good, I laid back on the couch to relax. Less than ten minutes passed before I heard the familiar knock on my door.

Sighing, I went to answer the unexpected visitor. Then again, he was never truly expected. My friend had a habit of popping in whenever he felt like it.

“What are you doing here, brat?” I asked the minute I saw him.

Doyle rolled his eyes like usual. “I’m not a brat. Today, at least. I saw the video online from your meeting with the dickbag. Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”

It was then I noticed the box in his hands. It was stamped with the logo from his fiancé’s bakery. While I was a fan, I didn’t often indulge because I’d only pay for it in training later. Pastries going in felt glorious. Burning off the fat and calories was not.

“You can come in, I guess.”

He strutted past me once I moved over. I glanced down the hall to make sure he didn’t bring any of the Princess Pack with him. Those guys were a riot, but I wasn’t in the mood to corral them all.

“Milk me,” Doyle declared as he popped the box open and dropped onto my couch.

Shaking my head, I went into the kitchen and grabbed one of his special cups. I had a set here since he stopped by often enough to need it. The other princesses in the pack typically brought their own.

After pouring his drink and grabbing water for myself — even though a beer would have been nice given my mood—I went to join him. The grabby hands he made at me were cute enough to take some of the darkness away.

“Thank you! Now eat one of these eclairs and tell me what the plan is. Are you finally doing The Thing?” He grabbed his own treat, then turned so his back was against the arm of the couch and his now shoeless feet were propped in front of him.

“The Thing?” I questioned.

He waved his hand as he worked to swallow the massive bite he’d taken. Boy was always rushing the sugar into his system, as if he didn’t already have enough natural energy.

“You know… The Thing. Getting the agent of your dreams and moving down South so your pops doesn’t have to suffer through harsh winters.”

“I didn’t realize my life choices had a coined phrase.”

“Everything has a coined phrase, my friend. You just have to think creatively.” He took a sip from his cup.

“Now back to the main topic. Did you email that hunky man to ask for his help or not? If you’re moving, I need to plan a going away party.

I’m sure Princess Aster wouldn’t mind hosting.

The Daddies all love you to pieces, even though you’re younger than us all. ”

Doyle was right. I was the youngest in their group by several years. It didn’t matter to me seeing as our similarities were about the kink dynamics we enjoyed. So long as everyone was a consenting adult, it was cool.

“While I love the idea of the move, I can say you guys are going to be the sad part of leaving. You’re all basically my extended family at this point.”

“Hell yeah we are! Which means this isn’t a goodbye at all.

We will be calling and video chatting and visiting as much as possible.

You can’t escape us. I even heard Daddy Paddy talk with Lewis about opening a club down there somewhere.

He said Texas, but maybe we can swing his decision with you moving. ”

I took a bite of the éclair to avoid commenting.

It wasn’t that I hated the idea of there being a Club Deny near me.

The part that tripped me up was whether or not I’d have the time to care for whatever Little I met once I went pro.

It was part of the reason I hadn’t committed to anyone despite there being options.

There was also my stupid crush on Grizzly. Nothing would ever come of it. It still didn’t help that in my head, I compared everyone I met to him.

And I didn’t even know if he was Little. You couldn’t tell just by looking at someone. The idea that there was some type of standard irked me. I’d seen all shapes, sizes, and genders be Daddies.

“That’s totally up to Patrick, Lewis, and Miguel. Whether it happens or not, I’ll likely be slammed with signing a deal and getting sorted.”

Doyle hummed thoughtfully. “You’re right. It being the next state over could be good for you too. Then you’re not shitting where you eat.”

“Dammit! I’m eating, man. Why did you say that?”

He giggled, kicking his feet all happy like. I scowled for a moment before cracking up myself. When we finally managed to calm back down, I grabbed the remote from the table and handed it over.

“Put on one of your shows. You can stay for one, right?”

“Yep. Daddy told me when my curfew is. I’ll make it back in plenty of time.” He drew out the word plenty, which told me he would in fact be cutting it close.

Pierce would have a field day with him over it. He loved when Doyle was sassy and ornery. They were a perfect pair that way.

Now I just needed to find my Little. And get a new agent. And move. And get drafted.

Maybe I needed to start a list. This was going to be a lot.