Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 41: Sparks Fly
Abby

Pushing the restaurant’s door open, I’m immediately enveloped by the scent of fresh bread and

brewing coffee.

The day beckons, promising a hustle that I’m both dreading and anticipating. Each wooden table is

adorned with a fresh bunch of flowers, the gentle hum of the morning preparations playing softly in the

background.

“Morning, Abby!” Jake, my ever-efficient waiter, calls out, balancing a tray of fresh pastries on his palm.

His smile reaches his eyes, but there’s an underlying tension behind his gaze. Word travels fast, and

I’m sure the staff knows about the disaster that was last night.

From behind the bar, Chloe shoots me a sheepish grin. I narrow my eyes at her, knowing that she likely

blabbed to someone, but I can’t stay mad at her.

“Hey, Jake,” I reply, forcing brightness into my voice, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the

emotional hangover.

Daisy joins Jake, her apron already smudged with the morning’s work. “Need a coffee?” she asks, a

knowing glint in her eyes.

“Wouldn’t say no to that,” I respond with a weary chuckle.

She swiftly moves to the espresso machine, her hands practiced and sure, and within moments I’m

cradling a warm cup of comfort. The aroma alone gives me the pick-me-up I desperately need.

“Thanks, Daisy. Oh, and get a new apron from the back before customers start coming, alright?”

“Sure thing, boss!”

The warmth of my office is a welcome reprieve from the bustling chaos of the restaurant. I step inside,

immediately relishing the sense of solitude it offers.

My small haven is dimly lit, decorated with tasteful artwork and an impressive array of certificates that

vouch for my culinary skills. Yet, right now, they feel like mere props to a play that’s become all too real.

Sliding the door shut, I exhale a long, deep sigh. My feet carry me to the plush leather chair behind my

oak desk. As I sink into it, every muscle in my body seems to let go of the tension it’s been holding

onto. My temples throb, a painful reminder of the tears and restless tossing of the previous night.

Yet, there’s a silver lining to my gloomy clouds. My restaurant. My sanctuary.

are special here. The windows filter in

The melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink

that’s both lively and

means brunch, an occasion that fills the restaurant with both families and lone

famous blueberry pancakes or

a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the

job that no one ever romanticizes, but there’s a comfort

a testament

flickers up

annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions. And after

don’t want to look him in the eyes, no matter

coffee cup in his

gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

slight smile, he places the coffee on my desk. “Thought

glance at my almost full coffee mug, then back at him, a teasing smirk

all set, but thanks.”

a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of

after last night,” he says. “I’m…

of embarrassment floods my cheeks. I don’t want to talk about it. Hell, I don’t

about it.

Karl’s gesture.

have been throwing my

I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road.

seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if

rant, I’m here.”

chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep

hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his

a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay?

a brunch

knowing smile.

…

kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve got a problem. John’s down with

fever.”

John being out on what promises to be one of our busiest days

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

but he didn’t look good. Said he’s been throwing up

food poisoning or something. He’ll probably be

one of my other line cooks, overhears, his face

We’re fully booked tonight.”

breath. “We adapt. That’s all we can

That’s when I spot Karl in the corner, working away at

he’s the only other pair of

“Karl!”

scanning the kitchen before settling

you in the kitchen,” I state, my tone

as if hoping to

“You can chop,

almost warily. “Sure, but are you sure

reply with

deep breath, adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when