Seventy Eight

But he didn't tell Jean you were his mate, a voice in her head reminded her. He's not proud to have you.

 "You're angry that I cooked you something?" asked James , sensing her mood shift. He tried examining her expression, but she was busy staring out the window. His wolf tensed, honing every sense on her.

 "No. It was sweet." And very convenient because she was an awful cook and she tended to exist on cereal, noodles, and takeouts.

 "Then why are you mad at me?"

 She folded her arms across her chest. "I'm not mad."

 "Yes, you are."

 "I'm not. I told you, what you did was sweet."

 Then why did she sound like she wanted to rip out his heart and use it as a mallet? "You're mad that I did something sweet?"

 "No."

 "So what's the problem?" She didn't answer, just continued to stare out the window. His wolf growled with impatience. "Sansa , you gotta help me out here. How can I apologize if I don't know what I've done?"