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.

in a

of customers combines with the clink of cutlery,

ambiance that’s both lively and

an occasion that fills the restaurant with

famous blueberry pancakes

of paperwork—invoices, supplier

the job that no one ever romanticizes,

number I check, it’s all a testament to

gaze flickers up to find Karl’s

bubbles up; I

want to look him in the eyes, no matter how beautiful and chocolatey

coffee cup in his hand.

I gesture towards the chair opposite me. “Do you

places the coffee on my desk.

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

all set, but thanks.”

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

you after last night,” he

don’t want to talk about it. Hell, I don’t

about it.

Karl’s gesture. His concern feels

pitying glances others have been

managing a faint smile. “Just another

nods, the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if you ever need to talk

rant, I’m here.”

a soft chuckle from me. “Thanks.

a moment, as if weighing his words. “Look,

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

brunch

smile. “Alright, boss lady.

…

face drawn and pale.

fever.”

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

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

so, but he

food poisoning or something. He’ll probably be out for

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

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We

to figure out a solution. That’s when I spot Karl in the corner,

task, but he’s the only other pair of hands

“Karl!”

head jerks up, eyes scanning the kitchen

in the kitchen,” I state, my tone allowing no room for

as if hoping to find an escape

I clarify. “You can chop,

warily. “Sure, but are you

reply

adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing when doing his