by Lynn Stark

Silver’s Studs 12
Peyton & Brag: City Boy
Putting his failed relationship behind him, Peyton Greer moved to Silver. Once there, he was reunited with a childhood friend. Brag Shelton had become one incredibly sexy adult. They reconnected as friends immediately. It wasn’t long before Peyton wanted much more. He wanted love from the sexy cowboy.
It didn’t take much time after their reunion for Brag Shelton to realize he wanted more than friendship with Peyton. The man was smart, handsome, and sexy. When they began to allow love to blossom between them, Brag felt as if something that had been missing had been returned to him.
That was threatened when an unpleasant visitor from Peyton’s past made an unexpected appearance. The man’s presence reminded Peyton that he couldn’t always trust what he was feeling. Despite what instinct was telling him about Brag, that he could trust and love him, he was filled with so much doubt he almost put an end to their plans for the future.
Genres: Alternative (M/M, Gay), Contemporary, Romantic Suspense, Western/Cowboys
Length: 43,366
Peyton & Brag:
City Boy
Silver’s Studs 14
Lynn Stark

Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
Peyton & Brag: City Boy
Copyright © 2018 by Lynn Stark
ISBN: 978-1-64243-260-2
First Publication: June 2018
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2018 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lynn Stark lives with her husband in Ohio, which is in the Midwestern section of the United States. Creating colorful characters, with depth and the capacity to love without reserve, is something she never tires of doing. While writing and reading are two of her passions, she travels when time and schedules allow. She loves to meet people and discover new things. One of her dreams is to find a place that has the special magic her fictional town of Silver possesses.
For all titles by Lynn Stark, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/lynn-stark
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Peyton & Brag:
City Boy
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Peyton & Brag:
City Boy
Silver’s Studs 14
LYNN STARK
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Peyton slowed his motorcycle as he saw the herd of huge, shaggy animals heading toward the dirt road he was presently trying to navigate. It was covered with gravel that was loose, as if it had only recently been spread. The herd of bison, consisting of about twenty-five animals, wandered lazily across the road. Peyton lifted the visor on his helmet to get a better look. He was close to the end of his journey. This one had taken him from Connecticut to Montana.
Once he’d emptied the townhouse he had sold, and the transport of his belongings, his vehicle, and his horses had been arranged, Peyton had decided to ride his motorcycle. It was a good way to see the countryside. The weather had been fairly decent and he had no regrets about his decision. This wasn’t his first long-distance trip, and he’d enjoyed riding by himself so far.
What he hadn’t expected were the rugged backroads leading to his new home, the house and property left to him when his father passed away. It was where his father had grown up. Peyton had visited it several times as a child, while his great-aunt was still alive. Back then, he hadn’t given much of his attention to the roads. What child did? Now he was hoping to get there without losing control of his motorcycle on the gravel.
After his great-aunt’s death, his father had leased the house and the property it sat on, not willing to give it up completely. Peyton had heard a lot of stories, but they had never visited the area as an adult, so he had a new perspective. Most of his father’s stories were amusing. His father had been a fantastic storyteller, which was likely where Peyton had gotten the gift, although his mother hadn’t been a slouch in the creative area.
When the bison finally passed in their ambling style without giving him more than a glance, Peyton started the motorcycle with the press of a button and continued on, traveling about fifteen miles and making many more turns. His new home seemed to have been placed in the middle of nowhere. His father had told him that they had lived quite a ways from the town of Silver. Peyton knew “quite a ways” meant twenty miles in this instance, but that was as a crow flies. The many roads needed to be taken obviously made it a much longer drive.
Twenty minutes later, Peyton was riding along the lane leading to his new home, ignoring the rutted earth under the tires. He was grateful that it hadn’t rained, otherwise it would have been a muddy mess. He would have to get the lane repaired and had the feeling it could be the first on a list of things that needed to be done.
The house drew his attention and he sucked in his breath at the changes that had been done since his father had taken it back over for remodeling and moved the single tenant to the remodeled caretaker’s cottage. The old Victorian house was no longer white with green trim but was painted a vivid blue with, darker blue, white, and bright yellow decorating the ornate trim. It stood rather starkly on a rise, with only one large tree off to the west side.
When Peyton neared the top of the rise, a spectacular view of the distant mountains and rolling hills at the edge of the valley was slowly revealed to him. The ruggedness of the slopes and jagged peaks was breathtaking. The sight reminded him of the roads he had just traveled. A few of them had had nothing to prevent someone from sliding off and dropping into deep ravines. His ass cheeks had clenched several times as he drove, trying not to look. Fortunately, those roads he had traveled had been paved. Skidding around them on gravel would not have been high on his list of things to do.
His gaze dropped to the long, wide valley that his property edged. At the east end, which was to his right, he could see the ranch buildings and the large log house where the Shelton family lived. He remembered them with pleasure and couldn’t wait to reacquaint himself. Although he didn’t go toward it now, he knew there was a gentle slope from his property and down into the valley. A gate allowed access. For boys playing, the valley had proven to be a terrific place to explore and create adventures.
Peyton parked the expensive Italian motorcycle near the house and took off his helmet. He left it on the seat as he walked toward the rear of the house, t
aking off leather gloves as he did so. The sun was warm on the black leather encasing his body. Pinching the tab, he unzipped the jacket. There was a large flagstone patio behind the house. It was protected overhead by a roof, supported by stone columns, creating a wonderful outdoor area. There was a fireplace at one end, placed so it wouldn’t block the view from the house of the valley and mountains.
When he’d been a child, there had only been a back porch. There hadn’t been anything this grand, but it had been a nice place to play games and sit with his family and friends to drink lemonade on hot days.
Giving the view one last look, Peyton turned toward the house. The lawyer handling his father’s estate had given him the code for the electronic lock. He punched in the code for the door leading into the mudroom. The motor buzzed as the bolt slid back. Once it was finished, he turned the doorknob and stepped in. He closed the door behind him and then walked through to the kitchen, pleasantly surprised to find that the room had been updated. It was unusual for his father to make such a large investment without sharing the information with Peyton. Obviously, he’d a lot of work done to the house to protect the value.
Peyton continued his tour, following the instructions his father had left with the lawyer, finishing up in the master bedroom on the first floor. There was an envelope on one of the window sills. His heart skipped a beat. As he got closer, he recognized his father’s handwriting.
He opened the envelope and removed the sheet of paper with a trembling hand.
Dear Peyton,
I’m not terribly crazy about writing this letter, because if you’re reading it, it means that I’ve passed on. I definitely have mixed feelings about doing so. On one hand, I’m going to miss out on our friendship. On the other, I’ll be with your dear mother again. She and I have a lot of catching up to do.
I left you this house, hoping you would come here to live. I was hoping to be there for the surprise. It’s the perfect place for you to create your stories. It has all the peace and quiet you could ask for. I hope you like the updates I had made to the house. If you do, then I guess I was paying attention to the things you liked and didn’t like over the years.
I’m not going to say I’m going to miss you, because I plan on watching over you. I hope you find love in this new place, too. That dirty rat bastard Roger didn’t deserve you.
Find your other half. Keep writing. And remember that your mother and I will always love you, even if we aren’t there with you.
Deepest love,
Dad & Mom (I’m adding her because I know if I don’t, she’ll give me hell when we meet up again.)
The last words were seen through tears. Peyton’s throat tightened painfully as he tried to hold them back. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he took a deep, calming breath. His father always did know how to get to him. Losing his mother five years ago to cancer had been bad enough. But when his father had died unexpectedly, it had nearly crushed him. He had been close with both of his parents. Despite the memories of them to be had in Connecticut, or maybe because of them, Peyton had decided to move to Montana as his father had wished. Although faint, there were memories here for him, too. He could still remember when they had visited his great-aunt. Those were days filled with laughter, and it felt good to be here in this house. And his father had been correct. He loved every detail of the renovation. The old man had been paying attention. The thought made him chuckle as he thought of his father diligently making notes as to whether Peyton preferred granite to composite countertops.
Folding the letter, Peyton slipped it back into the envelope. He returned it to the window sill. The trucks wouldn’t arrive with his furniture until that afternoon, if they were still on schedule. Then he would have someplace to keep it safe.
Peyton left the bedroom and returned to the kitchen. He had contacted the lawyer to arrange having the cupboards stocked. He had given a list of his preferences. Knowing products varied throughout the country, he left it to whoever purchased them to make whatever choices were necessary.
He was pleased to discover a bag of coffee beans sitting beside a grinder and a coffee brewer. There was a lot to be done and a boost of caffeine wouldn’t hurt him.
After making the coffee, Peyton glanced through the cupboards and refrigerator. It didn’t take long to realize that there were very few things that could be heated up. When he was writing, he wasn’t interested in spending time preparing a meal. He had gotten in the horrible habit of choosing food that could be tossed into the microwave. Within ten minutes he had a hot meal. That was what he had asked for. Not this stuff he would have to waste his time preparing.
Peyton grimaced when his stomach grumbled with hunger. The breakfast he’d enjoyed at the roadside diner this morning was obviously wearing off. He mentally went through the contents of the cupboards and refrigerator, and finally settled on something simple. A ham and cheese sandwich would be enough to hold him over until supper.
As he was preparing it, there was a knock on the back door. Suspecting that his furniture had arrived, Peyton walked out of the kitchen and through the mudroom to answer the door. His eyebrows shot up as he saw the tall man standing on the other side. He was wearing a cowboy hat and a navy blue T-shirt that was stretched tight over large muscles. Peyton’s awareness level went through the roof. The man was yummy, although self-preservation told him to keep that thought to himself.
He opened the door the man gave him a half-smile. “Hi, I’m Brag Shelton. I got the message from your lawyer and grocery shopped for you.”
The name was familiar, one from his past. Peyton stepped back, allowing the tall, muscular man inside. “Thank you for doing so. And I hate to sound ungrateful, but I was expecting more prepared food that I can heat up in the microwave.”
“All that shit is poison. Keep it basic is my motto. The less done to your food, the healthier it is.”
“I hope cooking it comes under that label, because I rarely have time to cook. I get too focused on my writing.”
Brag had removed his hat when he came into the house. Now Peyton could get a good look at the other man as he raked his fingers through his damp, sable-colored hair. “That’s understandable. If you’re able to pay someone, I know a woman who lives nearby that’s looking for a housekeeping job. She has experience, but she doesn’t want to live in.”
The idea of a housekeeper appealed to Peyton. One that didn’t want to live in was even better, since Peyton enjoyed his privacy and he didn’t want extra people in the house. The less there was to see, the less there was to gossip about.
“By the way, I live in the small house about two hundred feet from here. It’s part of the property. I used to live in this house, until your father began the renovations. He wanted me to stay on here, so he arranged for the caretaker’s house to be updated.”
A frown dipped Peyton’s brows. He could think of a couple of reasons why his father would want Brag to stay on the property. One might have been that he felt guilty for taking away the man’s home. That would have been like his dad. He thought about others. The other was that empty properties were vulnerable to vandalism and theft.
“I didn’t see another house, just the barn and some other outbuildings.”
“It’s about five hundred feet east of the barn, on the other side of the spruce trees. There’s a path between here and there, as well as the driveway.” Brag walked past him and glanced around. “Is your furniture getting here soon? If not, you can stay over at my place, or I can recommend a place in Silver.”
The idea of spending the night in close proximity of the handsome cowboy was a temptation he would rather not endure. Not knowing if the man was straight or not, although he was guessing straight, it was better not to risk getting a busted nose if he lost control of his better judgement.
“The trucks with everything I decided to bring with me should be here this afternoon. Hopefully they won’t have trouble finding this place and can maneuver the roads.” He had some doubts about that. Wh
ile he believed he would enjoy living in the middle of nowhere, getting things to and from the place could prove to be a challenge.
Brag chuckled. “You’d be surprised where a professional driver can take a big truck. This isn’t the only ranch in the area. We have trucks of all sizes going through here regularly. Do you mind if I have a cup of that coffee? The smell is killing me.”
“Sure, go ahead. I’m sorry I didn’t offer. I guess I left my manners in Connecticut.”
Peyton went to the cupboard where he had found an odd assortment of dishes.
“Because I didn’t know what you would have with you, I figured I would put those in there for you. There were dishes in the cupboard when I moved in. There are a few other things, too. I believe they belonged to your great-aunt Nella. I packed all of her things and put them in the attic. I didn’t want anything to get broken while I was living here.”
After filling the mug with the coffee, Peyton lifted it and turned to hand it to Brag. He was surprised to find Brag closer than he’d expected. “Thanks. I’m interested in seeing things that were hers.” Looking at the other man, he studied him. “We know each other, don’t we? Your name’s familiar. Your family lived nearby and my great-aunt invited you and your brothers over to play.” He was allowed to be fuzzy on the details. It had been more than twenty years since he’d been back.
Brag grinned, and there was humor in his beautiful, coffee-colored eyes. “I wondered how long it would take you to remember me, city boy.”
City boy. How he’d hated being called that. Back then, when he was around twelve years old, he had been teased one time too many and had tackled the smallest of the four boys, which happened to be Brag. The memory was clear. He was surprised he hadn’t remembered the name, it was so unusual. Some details had faded.
What Peyton now recalled clearly and unexpectedly was how much he had enjoyed wrestling with the other boy, or how his body had awakened sexually when Brag had pinned him to the ground. He had straddled Peyton and held his wrists over his head. It was the one and only time he’d enjoyed that.
