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.

here. The windows filter in a golden hue, casting warm patches of

chatter of

both lively and

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

our famous blueberry pancakes or a

paperwork—invoices,

part of the job that no one ever romanticizes, but there’s

I sign, every number I check, it’s all a testament to the world I’ve built

interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to

ajar door. A touch of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for

in the

I see the takeout coffee cup in his hand. “Can I come in?”

chair opposite me. “Do

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

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

all set, but thanks.”

eyes hold a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared

you after last night,” he says. “I’m…

cheeks. I don’t want to talk about

about it.

in Karl’s gesture.

have been throwing my

lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump

But

rant, I’m here.”

from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in

a moment, as if weighing

“Let’s not, okay? I

a brunch

a knowing smile. “Alright, boss lady. Let’s get to

…

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

fever.”

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

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

chewing his lips. “I think so, but he didn’t look good. Said he’s

probably be out for a few days at

other line cooks, overhears, his face

We’re fully booked tonight.”

deep breath. “We adapt. That’s all we

solution. That’s when I spot Karl in

his task, but he’s the only other pair of hands I can think

“Karl!”

up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on me.

need you in the kitchen,” I state,

hoping to find an escape route.

I clarify. “You can

slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are you

reply

bandana he’s started