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

The melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink of

ambiance that’s both

that fills the

famous blueberry pancakes or a

paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like. This

ever romanticizes, but

I check, it’s all a testament

My gaze flickers up to find Karl’s familiar face peeking through

I was in no

look him in the eyes,

cup in his hand.

opposite me. “Do you need

slight smile, he places the coffee on

at him, a teasing smirk playing on my

all set, but thanks.”

acknowledgment of our shared moment in

on you after last

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

about it.

sweet in Karl’s gesture. His concern

others have been throwing my way sinceI got

a faint smile. “Just another bump in the

the seriousness in his gaze softening. “True. But

rant, I’m here.”

a soft chuckle from me.

hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words.

okay? I appreciate the concern, but

a brunch crowd

curl into a knowing smile. “Alright, boss

…

enters the kitchen, his face drawn and pale. “Abby, we’ve

fever.”

John being out on what promises to be

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

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

or something. He’ll probably be out for

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

We’re fully booked tonight.”

take a deep breath. “We adapt. That’s all

out a solution. That’s when I spot Karl in the corner, working away at

the only other pair of hands I can

“Karl!”

jerks up, eyes scanning the kitchen before

I state, my tone allowing

around, as if hoping to find an

I clarify. “You can

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

I reply with

adjusting the bandana he’s started wearing