Read Online Worth a Thousand Words by Cherie Noel - Free Book Online

short hallway from the living room. Devon began to back out into the hall, wondering if Adrien would let him in after all or at least call the police to collect his remains. Mrs. Simpson caught his wrist.
    “No, don’t run. I’ll never stop her taking a wee nibble of you if you run. Just stand very still, and let her sniff you.”
    The crafty old woman was well protected, because Devon wasn’t sure if even a direct hit from a fifty caliber weapon would stop the gigantic thing lumbering up to him. He froze in place, feeling his balls try to crawl up into his abdominal cavity for protection.
“O-okay. She’s had her rabies shots, right?”
    Mrs. Simpson let loose with a bright, tinkling laugh. Her faded blue eyes sparkled. “Yes, not that you need to worry about it. She won’t bite you now unless I tell her to, or you do something threatening to me.”
    Aye Dios , forget his Abuelita. This woman was exactly like his madre. Only Mrs. Simpson was a generation older, and a good deal scarier than Rosario Soto. His madre would never let a big wolf-eating dog get at him. Devon wasn’t entirely certain Mrs. Simpson wouldn’t let her slavering beast have a mouthful of him, however.
    “ Si, I mean, yes ma’am. I am strictly on my best behaviooooo-ooor.” The end of Devon’s sentence went noticeably awry as Mrs. Simpson’s dog stuck a wet, snuffling nose into his crotch. The beast rolled its eyes up toward him as it sniffed hungrily. Well, maybe the dog wasn’t checking him for edible—er, bits—but he couldn’t help feeling like the latest chef’s special on a four-star doggie restaurant’s menu. The beast nudged up against his balls, and Devon began to pray in earnest. Then the creature’s tail started to wag, and the monster’s hindquarters curved around to make a neat half-crescent with the rest of its body. Devon choked. Betsy, who in an uncanny quirk of fate shared the same moniker as his beloved Jeep was hung like a prize-winning bull.
“Ah, Mrs. Simpson? Did you know that Betsy is— ”
    Catherine Marie Simpson speared him with another of her gimlet glares. “Young man, do I seem addled to you?”
    Devon cracked a rueful grin and answered without moving. “No ma’am. You seem more likely to serve me my private bits with a spoon if I should even suggest such a thing.”
    Mrs. Simpson gave a short, decisive nod. “We’re starting to understand one another. Splendid!”
A rough laugh spilled from Devon’s mouth, and that sealed the deal for Betsy. He stood on his hind paws, rested his front ones on Devon’s shoulders and licked ferociously. Devon thought he might need an extra-large bath sheet to get all the way dry again.
Mrs. Simpson tsked at Betsy the well-hung, and the black colored monster thumped back down to the floor. “Oh, he likes you. I am impressed. First Adrien chose you and now Betsy’s given you the face-slobber stamp of approval. It says something about you, Devon Soto, that those two pure souls would give you their favor.”
She snapped her little fingers at Betsy, and the dog followed her docilely into the kitchen. Mrs. Simpson unzipped her coat, carefully unwound her brightly patterned blue and green knit scarf from around her throat and turned, thrusting them both at Devon.
“Hang these up in the coat closet, please. The door’s right there—the whole apartment is a little mirror of Adrien’s place. Hang yours up as well, and then you can come in here to use the phone.”
Devon nearly snapped to attention at the commanding tone in her voice. Catching himself, he substituted a polite nod, took the proffered items and hung them in the closet. There were exactly two empty hangers. Devon wondered if Mrs. Simpson didn’t get many visitors.
When he returned to the kitchen, Mrs. Simpson was putting an old black and white cow teakettle on the stove. She cast a sly grin his way, winking as she did so.
“Ridiculous thing, I know, but the silly cow makes me laugh every time I put my