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As a thank you for reading, we’ve put together an extended scene that you won’t find anywhere else. Below you’ll find an exclusive chapter set six months after the epilogue—when Jack and Liam christen the newly finished commercial kitchen on the night of their B&B’s grand opening.

Opening Night

An Exclusive Bonus Scene from Stud Finder
Set six months after the epilogue

The last guest checked out at 7 PM.

Liam watched their taillights disappear down the newly paved driveway, champagne glass in hand, and let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for six months. The O’Malley Bed & Breakfast’s grand opening weekend was officially complete. Three nights, four guest rooms sold out, rave reviews already trickling onto TripAdvisor, and not a single disaster.

Well. One minor disaster. A guest had gotten locked in the upstairs bathroom on Saturday morning, but Jack had freed her in under ten minutes, and she’d tipped them an extra hundred dollars “for the authentic Victorian experience.”

“They’re gone?”

Jack’s voice came from behind him, low and rough in the way that always made Liam’s skin prickle. He turned to find his boyfriend—his partner, in every sense of the word—leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, arms crossed over his flannel-covered chest.

His kitchen. The one they’d spent four months building together, with the commercial-grade oven and the marble countertops and the industrial mixer that had made Jack go quiet with awe when it was first delivered.

“They’re gone,” Liam confirmed. “We did it.”

“You did it.” Jack pushed off the doorframe and crossed to him, big hands settling on Liam’s hips like they belonged there. “I just built stuff. You’re the one who made it all work.”

“We’re partners,” Liam reminded him. “Fifty-fifty, remember?”

“Mmm.” Jack’s mouth found the spot behind Liam’s ear that always made him shiver. “I remember. I also remember that we haven’t been alone in this house for three days.”

“We slept in the same bed—”

“Slept being the operative word.” Jack’s teeth grazed his earlobe. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been? Watching you charm our guests, smiling that smile, being all hospitable—”

“I was being professional.”

“You were driving me crazy.” Jack’s hands slid lower, pulling their hips together, and Liam felt the evidence of just how crazy. “I had to take three cold showers yesterday.”

“Three seems excessive.”

“You wore those jeans.” Jack’s voice dropped to a growl. “The ones that make your ass look—”

“Like an ass?”

“Like something I want to spend the next several hours worshipping.”

Liam’s champagne glass nearly slipped from his fingers. Even after six months together, Jack’s directness still short-circuited his brain. “Several hours seems ambitious.”

“I’m feeling ambitious.” Jack plucked the glass from his hand and set it on the porch railing. “And we have the whole house to ourselves. No guests. No check-ins. No reason to be quiet.”

The last three words went straight to Liam’s cock.

“The neighbors—”

“Aren’t close enough to hear.” Jack’s grin was wolfish. “I checked.”

“You checked?”

“I’m a professional. I do my research.” Jack grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Now get inside before I decide the porch is close enough to a bed.”

Liam went.

He expected Jack to take him to the bedroom. They had a nice bedroom now—a king-size bed with a headboard Jack had built himself, sheets that weren’t sleeping bags, actual walls that didn’t let in drafts.

Instead, Jack steered him into the kitchen.

“Here?” Liam asked, even as heat pooled low in his belly. “We just cleaned—”

“We’ll clean again.” Jack backed him up against the marble counter—the one they’d picked out together at the supply store in Billings, the one Jack had installed himself while Liam watched and tried not to visibly drool. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.”

“About what, specifically?”

“About you.” Jack’s hands found the hem of Liam’s shirt, sliding underneath to warm skin. “On this counter. Making those sounds you make when I—”

“When you what?”

Jack answered by lifting him.

Liam gasped—he couldn’t help it. Six months, and the way Jack handled him like he weighed nothing still made his brain go offline. One moment he was standing; the next he was sitting on the marble, Jack’s broad body between his thighs, Jack’s mouth on his throat.

“There,” Jack murmured against his pulse point. “That sound. Been dying to hear that sound all weekend.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m in love with you. Same thing.”

Liam’s heart did the thing it always did when Jack said that—casually, like it was a fact of the universe. The sky is blue. Water is wet. Jack Holloway is in love with Liam Chen.

“I love you too,” Liam said, because he’d learned that Jack needed to hear it. Needed the words, over and over, to believe they were real. “I love you, and if you don’t kiss me properly in the next five seconds, I’m going to—”

Jack kissed him.

Not soft. Not sweet. This was the kiss of a man who’d been waiting three days, wound tighter and tighter with every polite smile and every professional handshake. His tongue swept into Liam’s mouth, claiming, and his hands were everywhere—in Liam’s hair, down his back, hauling him closer until there was no space between them.

Liam wrapped his legs around Jack’s waist and held on.

“Shirt off,” Jack demanded, already pulling at the fabric. “Want to see you.”

Liam raised his arms and let Jack strip him. The marble was cold against his bare back—a sharp contrast to the heat of Jack’s gaze, sweeping over him like he was something precious.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Jack breathed.

“You say that every time.”

“It’s true every time.” Jack’s rough hands traced down Liam’s sides, making him shiver. “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Yours,” Liam agreed. “All yours. Now take your damn shirt off so I can—”

Jack was already unbuttoning. The flannel hit the floor, followed by the thermal underneath, and then Liam had his hands on Jack’s chest—broad and solid and covered in the light blond hair that Liam loved to run his fingers through.

“Better?” Jack asked.

“Getting there.” Liam’s fingers found Jack’s belt. “Still too many clothes.”

“Impatient.”

“You made me wait three days.”

“Fair point.”

They stripped each other in a tangle of hands and laughter—Jack’s jeans getting stuck on his boots, Liam nearly falling off the counter when he lifted his hips to help with his own pants. It should have been awkward. It wasn’t. Nothing with Jack ever felt awkward anymore.

And then they were naked, and Jack was looking at him with that expression—the one that was equal parts hunger and reverence.

“What do you want?” Jack asked. His hands were on Liam’s thighs, thumbs tracing circles on the sensitive inner skin. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Everything.” Liam’s voice came out breathless. “I want everything.”

“Specific.”

“I want—” Liam’s brain struggled to form coherent thoughts with Jack touching him like that. “I want you to make me forget my own name.”

Jack’s smile was slow and dangerous. “That can be arranged.”

He dropped to his knees.

Liam didn’t forget his name. He did, however, forget approximately everything else.

Jack’s mouth was a revelation. It always was—the man approached oral sex with the same focused intensity he brought to renovation work, learning exactly what made Liam gasp and shake and beg. He used his hands and his tongue and the scrape of his beard, building pressure in waves until Liam was gripping the edge of the counter hard enough to ache.

“Jack—Jack, I’m going to—”

Jack pulled off with an obscene pop. “Not yet.”

“Jack.”

“I said several hours.” Jack’s eyes were dark, his lips swollen and wet. “I meant it.”

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“Same thing.”

Jack laughed and stood, pulling Liam into a kiss that tasted like champagne and something darker. “Stay there. Don’t move.”

“Where are you—”

Jack crossed to the refrigerator. When he turned back, he was holding a can of whipped cream and a smile that promised trouble.

“Oh no,” Liam said, even as his cock twitched with interest. “That’s for the guests. For the breakfast service.”

“I’ll buy more.” Jack shook the can, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen. “Right now, this is for you.”

“Jack—”

“Lie back.”

Liam lay back.

The marble was cold against his spine. Jack was warm against his front, settling between his legs again, and when the first spray of whipped cream hit Liam’s chest, he yelped at the cold.

“Shh.” Jack’s mouth followed the cream, licking a path from Liam’s collarbone to his nipple. “I’ve got you.”

What followed was either the most ridiculous or the most erotic experience of Liam’s life. Possibly both. Jack painted him with whipped cream and then cleaned him with his tongue, methodical and thorough, paying special attention to every spot that made Liam squirm.

“You’re making a mess,” Liam gasped, as Jack traced a line of cream down his stomach.

“My kitchen. My mess.” Jack’s tongue dipped into his navel, making him jolt. “My boyfriend.”

“Possessive.”

“Always.” Jack looked up at him, chin resting on Liam’s hip, eyes dark with want. “That a problem?”

“God, no.”

“Good.” Jack’s mouth moved lower. “Because I’m about to get very possessive.”

Liam forgot to breathe.

They made it to round two on the kitchen floor—a pile of hastily grabbed dish towels providing minimal cushioning—and round three in the pantry, Liam’s back against the shelves while Jack held him up like he weighed nothing.

By round four, they’d finally made it to the bedroom.

“I think you killed me,” Liam mumbled into his pillow. He was face-down on the mattress, every muscle in his body reduced to pleasant jelly. “I’m dead. This is heaven.”

“You’re not dead.” Jack’s hand traced lazy patterns on his back. “Dead people can’t complain about being dead.”

“I’m not complaining. I’m observing.”

“You’re dramatic.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice was soft. “I really do.”

Liam rolled over, ignoring his protesting muscles, and found Jack propped up on one elbow, watching him with that expression—the one that still made Liam’s heart flip even after six months of seeing it every day.

“Thank you,” Liam said.

“For the sex? You’re welcome. I enjoyed myself.”

“For everything.” Liam reached up to touch Jack’s face, tracing the line of his beard. “For believing in this place. For believing in me. For staying, even when I made it hard.”

“You didn’t make it hard. Your ex made it hard.” Jack caught Liam’s hand and kissed his palm. “You made it worth it.”

“Sap.”

“Your sap.”

Liam pulled him down for a kiss—soft, this time. Tender. The kind of kiss they had time for now, all the time in the world.

“I love our life,” Liam said, when they finally broke apart. “I love this house. I love this town. I love waking up to your terrible coffee and going to sleep next to your ridiculous snoring.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You absolutely snore.”

“Lies. Slander.”

“I have recordings.”

Jack groaned and dropped his head to Liam’s shoulder. “You’re the worst.”

“You love me.”

“Unfortunately.” But Jack was smiling against his skin, and Liam felt it like a brand. “We should sleep. Big day tomorrow.”

“Another full house?”

“All four rooms booked. Plus Rita’s stopping by with her famous cinnamon rolls, and Harold wants to inspect the new porch railings.”

“Harold inspected them last week.”

“Harold is thorough.”

Liam laughed and pulled Jack closer, tucking himself against his chest the way he did every night now. Jack’s arm settled around him, heavy and warm and perfect.

“I’m glad I bought this house,” Liam murmured, already drifting.

“I’m glad you drove into that ditch.”

“Romantic.”

“I’m a romantic guy.” Jack pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll wake you up properly in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Liam slept.

And in the morning, Jack kept his promise.

~ The End ~

More Coming Soon

Jack and Liam’s story is complete, but Briar’s Creek has more love stories to tell…

Coming Soon:
• Level Up — Rita’s grandson meets a grumpy game designer
• Hard Wood — The new town doctor falls for a lumberjack

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