Daisy, Yellow

By Angelique Jurd

 

Not long after a humiliating breakup, Noah inherits his grandfather's farm. Despite having grown up in the city and never having visited the countryside, he packs his bags, buys a dog and moves onto the property. What could go wrong?
Apparently quite a bit. Starting with discovering that his grandfather had been something of a horder and that his pup has a penchant for sticking her nose where it's not wanted.
When Daisy has a run in with something unseen in the garden, Noah rushes to the neighboring vet - only to find that she has not been bitten by a snake but stung by a bee. This comforting news is delivered by a tall, bearded, unbelievably hot man with green eyes that sparkle at Noah's naivete.

Hunter is everything Noah's not - messy, relaxed, comfortable with animals and people. And at 39, he's still a virgin who has never come out. As their relationship grows, the country town guesses Hunter's secret andboth men are forced to choose between being comfortable and being happy.

Daisy, Yellow is a stand alone MM romance featuring a 39 year old virgin, some hurt/comfort, a naughty puppy, and a very bossy cat.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Angelique Jurd
• Release date: Sep 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393793205

Angelique Jurd

In 2018, Angelique published her first novel Jesse’s Smile. Since then, she’s continued to write contemporary gay (MM) romance and her academic research in fan studies and the queerification of popular fiction characters by fans. Angelique is owned by three cats, three adult children, two temperamental computers, and a very patient boyfriend (not a partridge in a pear tree). She’s also pierced, tattooed, pansexual and proud. When she’s not writing (or swearing at her computer) she likes cold champagne, hot coffee, neat whiskey, loud Springsteen, and the Winchester brothers kicking butt.

Book preview

Daisy Yellow

Angelique Jurd

Copyright © 2018 by Angelique Jurd

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

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All content within this publication including images and text is licensed for your personal enjoyment and use only. None of which may be reproduced in any way without documented consent from the author with the exception of brief quotes and links that include credit to the author and source. No content contained within this work may be regenerated, repurposed, or processed using artificial intelligence (AI) in any capacity as this work is not a part of the public domain and all rights and permissions to this literary work are copyrighted. Thank you for respecting the hard work and creative rights of this author.

This work of fiction and all references of historical events, persons living or dead, and locations are used in a fictional manner. Any other names, characters, incidents, and places are derived from the author’s imagination. The author acknowledges the trademark status and owners of any wordmarks mentioned within this work of fiction. Characters portrayed in sexual situations are 18 or older.

Edited by: Penny Tsallos, Penny Tsallos Editing

Formatted by: Small Black Cat Media

Cover artist: May Dawney, May Dawney Designs

Published by: Small Black Cat Media 2018

Dedication:

In memory of: Barney, Fitzy, Ishtar, Elsa, Franny, Sue, Rosie, HQ, Princess Bossy Paws, and all the other pets that brought me so much joy over the years.

And with love to

Olly, Monet, Ozzie, and Zeenz who continue to bring joy

Contents

1.Noah

2.Hunter

3.Noah

4.Hunter

5.Noah

6.Hunter

7.Noah

8.Hunter

9.Noah

10.Hunter

11.Noah

12.Hunter

13.Noah

14.Hunter

15.Noah

16.Hunter

17.Noah

18.Hunter

19.Noah

20.Hunter

21.Noah

22.Hunter

23.Hunter

24.Hunter

25.Noah

26.Hunter

27.Noah

28.Hunter

29.Noah

30.Hunter

31.Noah

32.Hunter

33.Noah

34.Noah

35.Hunter

36.Hunter

Epilogue

About the Author

Also By

Acknowledgements

Chapter one

Noah

Noah Jenkins is trying to fix a gate hinge when he hears the yelp. He drops the screwdriver he has been swearing at and runs toward the back of the house. Halfway there, a small bundle of yellow fur collides with his shins, yelps again, and sits back in the ankle length grass. He bends and scoops the puppy up.

Hey, baby, what’s wrong? A wet tongue sweeps up his face making him laugh. Did you give yourself a fright back there?

The puppy squirms and whines, twisting until he puts her back on the ground. No sooner is she down than she whines again and pulls her left front paw up. Noah frowns and watches as she puts the seemingly tender paw down again only to sit back on her rump, whimpering.

What’s wrong little girl? He crouches to get a better look.

The paw is warm to the touch and the puppy flinches when he strokes a finger over the swelling pad. What on earth has she done? The too-long grass rustles and although he can feel the cool breeze that caused it on his skin, another thought occurs to him and he looks around, fear blossoming in his chest. Are there snakes around here? God, he hasn’t been here since he was a child and can’t remember. He has no idea. He doesn’t think he saw a puncture wound but he doesn’t even know if that’s what he should look for. He’s an engineer - what would he know about a snake bite?

Unease creeps up his spine - why didn’t he keep her with him while he fixed the damned gate?

✽✽✽

Noah peers through the windscreen at the sign that’s dangling from one hook. Hunter Ross, Veterinarian, he reads out loud. Great. According to Google it’s the clinic nearest to him and it has good feedback. Hopefully the broken sign isn’t also a sign he should have kept driving. He parks his SUV, gathers the puppy in his arms, and shoulders the door open. Kicks it shut behind him and jogs up the ramp to the entrance.

A sliding door whooshes open and a young woman looks up from her computer to offer him a bright smile. A large gray and white cat, curled on the desk next to her computer, lifts its head to give Noah a disinterested look before going back to sleep.

Hi, ho…

I think my dog was bitten by a snake. Can you take a look at her?

Oh my gosh, let me call Hunter.

Noah nods and watches her disappear into a room beyond the reception area. You’re going to be okay, baby. I promise. The vet will get you sorted out.

The puppy wriggles against him and licks at his ear. That has to be a good sign, right? She can’t be dying if she can lick his ear. Can she?

The receptionist reappears, followed by a tall, worried looking man in jeans and a t-shirt. His gaze softens when it lands on the restless Labrador and he hurries over.

Isabella grab the antidote kit. He looks up and smiles not unkindly. What kind of snake was it?

Noah frowns.

I… I don’t know. I mean…

Well, what did it look like? The vet continues to poke and prod the puppy and smiles when she licks his face.

I didn’t see it. I …

Where was she bitten?

In my back yard. Noah’s confused. What does it matter where she was when it happened?

I meant, what part of her body?

Oh.

Uh… her paw. This one. He holds the swollen paw out and nuzzles the soft fur on the back of her head, trying to reassure her.

The vet moves Noah to the window, so he has better light, and examines the paw with a frown. He runs a finger over the pad and spreads her toes out to see between them. He squints, takes a pair of long tweezers from the pocket of his jeans and digs in the paw. After a few seconds, he lifts his head and Noah is sure he can see amusement in the man’s eyes.

You’re from the city, aren’t you? Moved into old Clive Jenkins’s place?

Yeah. Why?

The vet holds the tweezers up and Noah sees what looks like a very small, fine hair between them.

Your dog was stung by a bee.

There’s no mistaking the amusement now and Noah feels blood rushing to his cheeks.

Well I wasn’t there, he snaps, aware he’s being rude and unable to stop himself, I just heard her cry out and then she didn’t seem to want to put her weight on it and … his voice trails off.

The vet laughs. It’s okay, I understand. Better to be safe than sorry. Do you want to join the clinic?

Will she be okay? I mean, what if she’s allergic or something?

Dogs usually aren’t but if she was, you’d know by now. He leads Noah to the reception desk. Her paw will be tender for a day or two and she might start licking at it, so you’ll want to watch she doesn’t get carried away and cause more damage than the bee has.

Noah assumes he looks as confused as he feels judging by the look on the vet’s face.

First dog? Ross asks as he nudges the receptionist out of the way, ignoring her protests.

Yeah. Noah eyes the cat and tightens his grip on the puppy. I… uh… Should I put her in the car and come back? I’m a bit worried she’ll chase your cat.

Oh, don’t worry about Rosie, the receptionist offers her boss a look of long-suffering resignation, she’ll soon let her know who’s boss. What’s her name?

Daisy.

The vet taps on the keyboard, then looks up. For the first time since their arrival Noah really looks at him. Both his short auburn hair and scruffy beard glint red-gold in the overhead lights and his eyes are a deep, dark green.

"And your name?"

Noah. Noah Jenkins.

The receptionist raises an eyebrow and Noah nods.

He was my grandfather.

I’m so sorry, Mister Jenkins. The vet puts his hand out. Noah adjusts Daisy, so he can shake it. I’m Hunter Ross, I knew your grandfather, I treated his stock. Are you cleaning the place up for sale?

Noah doesn’t know how to answer that. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his grandfather in over twenty-five years; not since his father had told the old man never to contact them again. Didn’t even know him really. Nobody was more surprised than Noah when they had learned three months ago that he had inherited the small house and block of land. His first thought had been that there had to be some error – surely it should go to his father. His second thought had, in fact, been to sell everything. Then the realtor had sent photos of the place and he’d started thinking maybe it was time for a change of scenery. A civil engineering consultant, after all, doesn’t need to be in the city to work. Or near old memories.

Three weeks ago, he had packed everything up, bought a dog, and moved. He rubs a finger over Daisy’s stung paw.

Noah looks back up to find Hunter Ross studying him and catches his breath before clearing his throat.

Actually, I’ve moved in.

Hunter seems surprised, then smiles, and picks the form back up. Well, let’s get you enrolled then.

✽✽✽

Noah’s cheeks are still burning with embarrassment as he drives home. A bee sting. He’s pretty sure that little tidbit will be all over the county by tomorrow. Old Clive Jenkins’ grandson is an ignorant city guy who can’t tell a bee sting from a snake bite. Great.

To make matters worse, he’d stood for at least thirty seconds making great sappy, heart eyes at the vet. The hot vet, he amends.

No.

Daisy lifts her head from her paws and cocks it to one side. Noah scratches her ears.

Not you little girl. Me.

The last thing Noah needs to be doing is looking at anyone. Especially given that he is about as skilled at identifying good relationship material as he is at telling the difference between a bee sting and a snake bite.

As he turns into the driveway, he spots half a dozen cows grazing on his front lawn. He watches another cow wander through the gap left by the gate he’d been trying to repair, and which hangs on just one hinge now.

Great. Just great.

2

Hunter watches Noah from the window, smiling at the way the he buries his face in his pup’s fur, talking to her on their way back to a silver SUV. He stops, looks up at the broken sign, and appears to say something to the dog before opening the door.

I didn’t know old Clive had a grandson. Isabella has reclaimed her computer.

Hunter grins at her. "Oh my God, do you mean to tell me there’s something in this town you don’t know?"

She pokes her tongue at him as Rosie, the cat, stretches and jumps off the desk to wind back and forth between his ankles.

"Must have been an out of town attorney and realtor. I’ll tell you something I do know, she ignores Hunter’s grimace, and that is that he’s going to cause a stir. He’s cute."

If you say so. What time am I supposed to be out at the Johnson’s?

Isabella tells him, and he nods his thanks. As he turns toward his office, he glances out the window to see Noah’s car pulling out onto the main road and watches him disappear.

✽✽✽

He all but forgets about the lanky guy with the messy blond curls and the puppy until he’s passing the Jenkins property on his way back to the clinic and sees the SUV in front of the house. Isabella isn’t wrong - the guy is cute. Hunter didn’t see a ring and there was no mention of a wife or family. In fact, he’d said I’ve just moved here not we’ve just moved here.

All of which means nothing, he reminds himself. Nothing at all. Except there had been a moment when he had looked at Hunter; when he’d talked about moving here, there was something in his voice.

Something in your fucking imagination, Hunter tells himself as he turns into the clinic driveway. Imagination or not, it’s immaterial; it’s not like he’s ever going to do anything about it. When it comes to people, according to Isabella, Hunter has the social skills of a hibernating bear.

Isabella’s car is gone and the red CLOSED is on the clinic door, along with the after-hours number. He scowls at the broken sign as he drives past and reminds himself to deal with it tomorrow.

One of the reasons he’d bought the place off Gerry, when the old guy had become too old to work, had been the house behind the clinic. Neither huge nor particularly modern, it’s sound and solid and all Hunter needs; and it got him away from his parents’ home. Not that he doesn’t love them; he had simply needed some breathing space. Still does. He lives alone and the rare times he has someone over for dinner could hardly be considered highlights of anybody’s social calendar. Isabella sometimes calls in on her day off and a few of the locals will drop by from time to time if they see he’s home. Otherwise it’s just him and Rosie, who right at this moment is on the other side of the door he’s trying to unlock, demanding her dinner.

Alright, alright, I’m coming, he mutters and dumps his backpack on the floor to pick her up. The cat bumps his chin and meows again. Bossy wench.

As soon as she’s distracted with her food, Hunter makes himself a sandwich, opens a beer, and takes them to his desk. While he waits for his laptop to boot up, he takes a bite and runs through the day. Nothing out of the ordinary. A myriad of pets came through the clinic this morning - cats, dogs, three guinea pigs, Jason Pine’s goat with its head stuck in a plastic feed container - again - and Daisy.

It’s clear Noah Jenkins has no idea what he’s doing with that pup, but Hunter gives him points for trying, since it’s equally clear he loves her. He sips his beer and as he logs into his email wonders what happened to Clive’s stock. The grandson’s obviously no farmer.

Maybe Hunter will pop over tomorrow and just check on things. Just to make sure everything’s okay and that Daisy isn’t licking her paw pad. As a welcome to the area gesture, he tells himself. It has absolutely nothing at all to do with seeing Noah Jenkins again to see if that thing in his imagination had maybe been real. That thing that he won’t act on.

Nothing at all.

✽✽✽

Instead of calling into the Jenkins place the next day, Hunter spends his Sunday helping a vet two counties over try to save a prize-winning mare poisoned by someone lacing her food with rat poison. By the time he gets home, he’s too tired to do more than share a frozen dinner with Rosie and fall into bed.

3

Jim Campbell phones on Friday morning to say his mare foaled overnight and could Hunter come and check the two animals over please. Hunter knows there’s no point arguing with the man. He doesn’t need to see them to know that both mare and foal will be fine; she’s strong and healthy and this isn’t her first foal. It’s all part of the job, reassuring farmers and breeders that their investment is safe. Besides Louise Campbell makes the best apricot and cream cheese muffins Hunter has ever tasted so he may as well leave Isabella a note and head on over.

He pulls his jeans on and sniffs at the shirt he’d been wearing yesterday. Nope. Tosses it in the growing dirty pile, grabs one from the diminishing clean pile, and flicks the switch on the coffee. While he waits, he feeds Rosie, checks her litter box is clean, and hunts for his cell phone.

As he passes the Jenkins property, he slows down. The car is parked by the front door, exactly where old Clive used to park. Hunter