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

floors. The melodious chatter of customers

ambiance that’s both lively

that fills the restaurant with both families and

famous blueberry

I retrieve a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and

part of the job that no one ever romanticizes, but

check, it’s all a testament to the world I’ve built brick by brick, dish

my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to

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

him in the eyes, no

coffee cup in his hand. “Can I come in?” he

chair opposite me. “Do you

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

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

all set, but thanks.”

a twi nkle, a silent acknowledgment of our shared moment in my apartment

after last night,” he says.

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

about it.

Karl’s gesture.

pitying glances others have been throwing my way sinceI

good, Karl,” I lie, managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We all have

the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But if

rant, I’m here.”

soft chuckle from me. “Thanks.

moment, as if weighing

“Let’s not, okay? I

got a brunch crowd

smile.

…

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

fever.”

to be one

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

his lips. “I think so, but he

probably be out for a few days at

other line cooks, overhears, his face mirroring my concern.

We’re fully booked tonight.”

“We adapt. That’s all we can

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

caught up in his task, but he’s the only other pair of hands I

“Karl!”

jerks up, eyes scanning the kitchen before settling on me. “Something

need you in the kitchen,” I state, my

as if hoping to find

clarify. “You can

nods slowly, almost warily. “Sure, but are you sure

I reply with

he’s started