them to the dog anyway if she was mine.” He shoved a bag at her so she could collect her treats.
She took it but studied the plain brown paper.
“You should name the treats.”
“Huh?”
“Instead of the labels of what’s in them, you should give them names. Sweet Pup-tato or Carrot-alls. Have a label on your bags.” She shook the little paper bag he’d handed her. “Have a saying on them, like ‘have a tail-wagging good time.’ You know, cutesy dog stuff.”
He shook his head, scowling. It wasn’t anything his mother hadn’t gently suggested, but he wasn’t the frilly sort, and neither were his treats. Adding all that...window dressing was wholly unnecessary, and he was tired of people suggesting it to him. Damn tired of Cara suggesting all manner of things, not always with words. But with looks and...
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