Check Mated: A Cozy Queerwolf Story, page 1
CHECK MATED
A COZY QUEERWOLF STORY
QUEERWOLF
BOOK 2.5
HARMONY FULLER
Copyright © 2025 by Harmony Fuller
All rights reserved.
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Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.
ISBN: 9798312230741
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Stay In Touch!
Guilded Moon
I Put a Spell On You
CHAPTER 1
"Holy mother of dust bunnies!" I choked out, waving a hand in front of my face as I followed my boss into what she was optimistically calling our new clinic. Sunlight filtered through broken windows, catching motes of dust that swirled like tiny tornadoes in our wake.
"Did you find this place in the 'fixer-upper from hell' section of Craigslist?"
"It has potential," Olivia insisted, picking her way through the last remnants of scattered hay bales and what looked suspiciously like decades-old feed bags.
"It’s a barn," I countered, gingerly lifting a rag with two fingers, half-expecting a mouse family to pop out or for it to crumble into dust. "An ancient one."
"It’s not that old," Olivia argued, kicking an empty ground coffee can across the floor. The clink, clink of its metal against the wood only reinforced my point.
"I know love makes you crazy boss, but this is next-level nuts." I sneezed dramatically for effect. "I mean, I get it—Naomi’s gorgeous, and leaving Brett was definitely an upgrade—but did she have to live on a property that comes with its own tetanus factory?"
Olivia shot me a look that was probably meant to be stern but couldn’t quite hide her smile. "The barn is structurally sound. It just needs some work. Plus, it’s free, a savings I could have passed along to my help if they weren’t so grumpy about it."
I rolled my eyes. "Some work?" I gestured at a cobweb so massive it could’ve housed the entire cast of Charlotte’s Web. "This place needs an exorcism. I’m pretty sure I saw something move in that corner, and I’m not talking about the mice."
"Daisy..."
"No, seriously, what’s the renovation plan? Step one: survive. Step two: pray?" I laughed, taking some of the sting out of my words.
But even as I joked, I found myself wandering deeper into the space, past the debris of its former life. The barn was huge, with high ceilings and solid bones beneath all the mess. Natural light poured in from the upper windows, and despite my dramatic protests, I could start to see what Olivia meant about potential.
"Okay," I admitted, turning slowly to take it all in. "Maybe—and I mean maybe—this isn't completely insane. The layout could work for exam rooms along this wall, and that loft space would make a killer rec room… err, storage."
"See?" Olivia beamed. "I knew you’d get it once you looked past the—"
"Post-apocalyptic aesthetic?"
"I was going to say 'current condition.'"
I ran a hand along a wooden beam, surprisingly solid under years of dust. "We’re gonna need new everything. Windows, floors, walls..." I paused, eyeing a particularly suspicious stain. "Please tell me this place has running water at least, or do we need to dig a well? Because I draw the line at pioneer medicine."
"There’s plumbing," Olivia assured me. "And electricity. Naomi tells me it just needs to be hooked up, and apparently, there are a few people here on the grounds who’d love to help with the demo and rebuild."
"Well, thank God for small miracles." I pulled out my phone, starting a list. "Alright, boss lady, hit me with your vision. But if you say anything about 'rustic charm,' I’m walking."
"Actually," Olivia started, and I could hear that tone in her voice—the one that usually meant I was about to get volunteered for something. "I was thinking we could start with-"
"If you say clearing out those feed bags, I quit," I interrupted, throwing my hands up. "I’ve seen enough horror movies to know what lives in ancient feed bags, and I am not—"
My theatrical protest was cut short as I backed directly into the very stack of bags I'd been protesting.
The dusty pile swayed ominously.
I had exactly one second to think well, this is embarrassing before the whole thing started to topple.
A montage of my life—featuring a variety of breakfast burritos and bad tv—flashed before my eyes. I had just enough time to regret all the burritos I’d never get to eat before I was smothered under a pile of mite-infested burlap.
But then—bam.
A blur of movement.
Strong hands steadied both me and the falling bags before disaster could strike.
I spun around, already preparing to thank Olivia for her unexpectedly swift reflexes—only to find myself staring into the most striking green eyes I had ever seen.
Now, I’m not usually the type to get tongue-tied. Ask anyone—I always have something to say. But for a moment, all I could do was blink at the stranger who had just prevented my untimely demise via agriculture.
She was lean but strong, judging by how easily she had caught both me and the collapsing debris. Her dark hair was pulled back in a practical ponytail, but those eyes... they caught the light streaming through the broken windows, making them almost glow—emeralds flecked with gold.
Finally, my brain kicked back into gear.
"My hero!" I declared, finding my voice. "Though I gotta say, if this place is already trying to kill me, we might need hazard pay."
The corners of her mouth twitched, like she was fighting a smile. "Pretty sure hazard pay doesn’t kick in until at least the third near-death experience around here," she replied, her voice quiet but tinged with dry humor.
"Oh, so you’re saying I’ve got two more free attempts at becoming one with the feed bags before I can file a claim?" I grinned, oddly pleased when that earned me an actual smile.
"I’d recommend spacing them out," she said, deadpan. "Paperwork’s a nightmare if you cluster your workplace accidents. Plus, it’s harder to believe if you almost die three times in a single day."
"Grounds for being fired, I’d think."
I laughed, delighted by her dry wit. "Well, since you saved me from becoming a cautionary tale about barn safety, the least I can do is thank you properly. How do you feel about breakfast burritos? I make a mean chorizo and egg. Plus, I’m pretty sure I was just seeing a vision about them right before you saved me."
Something flickered in those fascinating green eyes. "You don’t even know my name yet."
"True. I’m Daisy—professional disaster, vet tech to Olivia, and apparently in dire need of a safety supervisor." I stuck out my hand, and when she took it, I swore I felt a spark.
"Rylee," she answered, and oh, that little half-smile was doing things to my insides. "And I wouldn’t say no to breakfast burritos."
Before I could respond (possibly with something embarrassingly eager), someone called Rylee’s name from outside. She gave me an apologetic look.
"I should—"
"Go, go. Save someone else from imminent death by agriculture." I waved her off, trying not to feel disappointed. "But I’m serious about those burritos!"
She nodded, that hint of a smile still playing around her lips, and headed for the door.
I watched her go, definitely not admiring the way she moved (okay, maybe a little), before turning back—only to find Olivia giving me a knowing look.
"What?" I asked, feeling my cheeks heat.
"Nothing," she said innocently. "Just thinking maybe this barn isn’t so next-level nuts anymore?"
"Shut up," I muttered, but I couldn't hide my grin.
Then, I cocked my head, trying to listen for any sign that Rylee was still nearby.
Not that I cared.
Obviously.
But, you know, for logistical reasons. Like, what if I had follow-up questions about barn safety?
Completely valid.
“Does she work here?”
Olivia’s brows lifted, and a slow smile curled at the corners of her mouth. A smile that would have mildly concerned me before she got together with Naomi. But now? Now it terrified me, because that smile screamed meddling.
“Lives here, actually,” she said casually, bending over to shuffle through a pile of rusted equestrian tools. “Even has a wolf of her own.”
“Let me guess, named Rylee?” I asked, still baffled by the whole naming your wolf after yourself thing the women who lived at Mayfield Meadows did. Something about it
“Of course.” Olivia pulled out a horseshoe, turning it over like she was actually inspecting it instead of setting up whatever scheme she had brewing. “She’s a beautiful wolf. Mix of dark browns and blacks, lean but tough.” She tossed me a glance, way too innocent. “I’m sure if you called, she might just come running.”
I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms. "Let’s focus on making this place less Children of the Corn and more Dr. Dolittle before I start trying to make friends with the local wildlife.”
But, okay. Maybe a tiny part of me wondered if Rylee’s wolf had the same striking green eyes as her human caretaker. I’d seen a husky once with green eyes, but never a wolf. Not that I had extensive experience, aside from Wolf Naomi, who strangely never seemed to be around when I visited. I had seen her almost daily at the clinic, fed her burritos, napped with her on the break room couch, did… other totally valid vet tech related things.
Before I could go down that rabbit hole, Olivia gestured toward the far end of the barn.
“Want to see where your exam room will be?”
“’My’ exam room?” I blinked at her, stepping over a suspicious-looking pile of something formerly organic. “First of all, not a doctor. And second, I thought we were figuring out the layout together?”
“We are,” Olivia said breezily, already leading me deeper into the barn. “But I know you’re going to want the room with the best natural light for your workspace. Plus, if we’re taking care of the wolves and still seeing the usual menagerie from town, I’ll need more than just a vet tech helping me run things.”
She turned, smiling at me like she hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.
“Thought you might like a bump up to lead vet tech. Comes with your own exam room.”
I narrowed my eyes, suspicious. “Does it also come with one of those small TVs I can watch while pretending to do charts?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
She tried to be stern, but I knew that actually meant, yes, because it doesn’t come with a raise, so obviously a TV is included.
And honestly? I could live with that.
With a shrug, I pulled out my phone, switching to a measurement app while simultaneously queuing up my Barn Raising playlist. If we were going to exorcise this place of its haunted farm vibes, we needed tunes. The opening riff of Come Together (and Build a Barn) echoed through the rafters as I started taking measurements, throwing in a little dance step for good measure.
That was when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye.
I glanced toward the barn doors just in time to see Rylee had returned, helping unload what looked like lumber and construction supplies from a truck outside. Not that I was watching her. I was just… observing the workflow.
She lifted the heavy boards with zero effort, her movements precise, efficient. Almost graceful, in that way where every motion seemed perfectly calculated.
And, okay. Maybe I got a little distracted watching her. Strictly for… occupational hazard assessment purposes.
For the next twenty minutes, I tried to focus on my measurements, but I kept finding reasons to glance at the door. You know, just to make sure no one needed help.
It was pure coincidence that every time I looked, I got to see Rylee in action.
And, somewhere along the way, she had taken off her jacket, leaving just a fitted dark tank underneath. Which, obviously, meant someone needed to make sure her jacket didn’t mysteriously disappear. You know, security reasons.
So, naturally, I had to keep an eye on her to ensure it stayed where it belonged.
Important.
Finally, the truck was empty, and the workers started breaking off into smaller groups.
Rylee disappeared for a few agonizingly long minutes before she returned, carrying what looked like a battered old chess board.
She set it up on a crate in a cleared-out corner of the barn, settling in with the kind of quiet focus that, after watching her working solo for half the morning, I was starting to recognize as very Rylee.
I tilted my head, intrigued despite myself.
Chess?
Interesting.
I found myself wandering closer, measurement app and lunch both forgotten. "Taking a strategic approach to renovation planning?"
Rylee looked up, and that little half-smile I was quickly becoming addicted to made another appearance. "Something like that. Chess helps me think."
"Fancy." I peered at the board, recognizing maybe three pieces from that Netflix show I'd binged last month. "Though I have to admit, the only thing I know about chess comes from that series with the pretty redhead."
Her eyes lit up. "That's actually what got me back into playing seriously again. I had stopped for the longest time until Lydia found this old board…” She paused, like she’d just realized she was oversharing.
No way was I letting her get embarrassed over something this cute.
"You're kidding!" I perched on an overturned bucket near the crate, renovation duties completely abandoned. "Though I’m guessing you skipped the whole ‘playing games on the ceiling while high on tranquilizers’ part?"
That earned me a soft laugh. "Surprisingly, that wasn’t part of my training regimen. It’s actually kind of hard to get tranquilizers out here."
I grinned. "Not now that the clinic’s opening."
Her face immediately made me regret the joke, so I waved a hand like I was scrubbing it from the record. "Not that we would do that! Or want to! We definitely don't encourage recreational tranquilizer use."
Rylee arched a brow, but her lips twitched. "Good to know."
Okay, time to pivot. "So what’s your deal? Are you one of those people who can play, like, fifteen games at once in their head?"
"Not quite." She moved a piece, then looked up at me thoughtfully. "But I could teach you the basics, if you want."
"Really?" I tried not to sound too eager, but come on—gorgeous, geeky woman offering to spend time with me? Yes, please. "I should warn you though, my strategy skills max out at planning the optimal burrito-to-coffee ratio for breakfast. Although," I added with a grin, "I have perfected that particular formula."
"Speaking of those breakfast burritos you mentioned..." She trailed off meaningfully, and was that a hint of flirtation I detected?
"Oh, so this is just a long con for breakfast?"
She shrugged, not denying it.
"Tell you what—teach me chess, and I’ll bring breakfast. But don’t expect any brilliant strategies from me until after I’ve had at least two cups of coffee."
She nodded solemnly, though her eyes danced with amusement. "Noted. Strategy is directly proportional to caffeine intake. Understood.”
"Exactly! Finally, someone who understands my process." I watched as she reset the board with quick, practiced movements. "Though I have to warn you, if you're expecting some kind of chess prodigy, you're going to be sorely disappointed. The most strategic thing I've done all week was figuring out how to fit three different flavors of coffee creamer in the clinic's mini fridge."
That earned me another one of those quiet laughs that were quickly becoming my favorite sound. "Everyone starts somewhere. Even Beth Harmon had to learn which way the horse moves."
"Oh god, is that the jumping one? Because that's going to be a problem..."
"Daisy!" Olivia’s voice carried from the other end of the barn. "Stop flirting and come look at these blueprints with me!"
I felt my cheeks heat. "I wasn’t—" But Rylee was already gathering her chess pieces with that subtle smile, and really, who was I kidding? I’d absolutely been flirting.
"Tomorrow?" she asked quietly, tucking the board under her arm.
"Tomorrow," I confirmed, probably too quickly. "Same time? I’ll bring enough burritos to feed a wolf."
Her eyes did that fascinating glinting thing again as she smiled. "Perfect."
I forced myself to walk back to where Olivia was spreading papers across another crate, trying not to grin like an idiot. The blueprints were old and faded, but they’d help with planning the renovation. I did my best to focus as Olivia pointed out potential exam rooms, recovery areas, and where the electrical and water hookups were just outside. But my attention kept drifting toward the door Rylee had disappeared through.
