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.

The windows filter in

floors. The melodious chatter of customers combines with the clink of

that’s both lively

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

our famous blueberry pancakes or a hearty

a stack of paperwork—invoices, supplier orders, and the like. This

part of the job that no one ever romanticizes,

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

soft knock interrupts my thoughts. My gaze flickers up to

of annoyance bubbles up; I was in no mood for interruptions.

in the eyes, no

cup in his hand. “Can I come in?” he

opposite

coffee on my desk. “Thought you might

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

all set, but thanks.”

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

check on you after

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

about it.

sweet in Karl’s gesture. His

others have been throwing my

managing a faint smile. “Just another bump in the road. We

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

rant, I’m here.”

soft chuckle from me. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in

for a moment, as if weighing

raise a hand, cutting him off. “Let’s not, okay? I appreciate the concern, but

got a brunch

smile. “Alright, boss lady.

…

and pale. “Abby,

fever.”

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

nightmare. “Is he okay?”

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

or something. He’ll probably be out for

my other line cooks, overhears, his

We’re fully booked tonight.”

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

solution. That’s when I

task, but he’s the only

“Karl!”

the kitchen before settling

I state, my tone allowing no room

as if hoping to find an escape

I clarify. “You can

“Sure, but

reply with

the bandana he’s