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.

windows filter in a

of customers combines with the clink of

ambiance that’s both

that fills the restaurant with both families and lone

famous blueberry

stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders,

that no one ever romanticizes, but

check, it’s all a testament to the

flickers up to find Karl’s

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

want to look him in the eyes, no matter how

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

opposite me. “Do

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

almost full coffee mug, then back at him, a teasing smirk playing on my lips. “Seems

all set, but thanks.”

hold a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared

check on you after last

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

about it.

there’s something unexpectedly sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern feels genuine,

pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI got

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

But

rant, I’m here.”

elicits a soft chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep

if weighing his words. “Look,

a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but I’d rather focus on

brunch crowd to

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

…

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

fever.”

to be one of our busiest days of the week is

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

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

poisoning or something. He’ll probably be out for a few days

other line cooks, overhears, his face mirroring my concern. “What’re we

We’re fully booked tonight.”

take a deep breath. “We adapt. That’s

when I spot Karl in the corner, working

He’s caught up in his task, but he’s the

“Karl!”

eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on

in the kitchen,” I state, my

hoping to find

I clarify. “You

warily. “Sure, but are you sure about

times,” I reply with a

bandana he’s started wearing when doing his tasks.