Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 51: Impressed
Abby

“Alright, paperwork’s done,” Karl declares with an air of finality, piling the last of the filed sheets into a

neat stack.

The office is a maze of papers, scatt ered across the desk and floor, but we’ve managed to conquer the

monster of bureaucracy.

I chuckle, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “Who knew running a restaurant came with so

much… paper?”

Karl snorts. “Did no one warn you?”

I roll my eyes dramatically. “Alright, Mr. Know-It-All. Next is ordering. Let’s head to the kitchen and see

what we need.”

He nods, and we make our way to the heart of the restaurant. The stainless steel countertops gleam

under the dim overhead lights, and I breathe in the familiar mix of spices and cooked food. There’s

something soothing about being here, even when the bustle is gone.

I grab a clipboard and start jotting down a list. “We definitely need more garlic, basil, tomatoes…”

Karl starts peeking into various containers and cupboards, joining in on the inventory. “Don’t forget the

mushrooms and parmesan.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence as we both get absorbed in our task.

Then, from a distance, the soft strumming of a guitar fills the space. It seems one of the staff has left a

radio on.

“Is that… Ed Sheeran?” Karl asks, looking up with a smile.

I nod, swaying slightly to the rhythm. “Perfect. I haven’t heard this song in a while.”

My head instinctively bobs to the music as I get back to work. But then, I feel a presence beside me. I

look up to see Karl standing beside me, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Dance with me?” he asks.

Shaking my head, I turn away slightly. “You’re ridiculous. We’ve got work to do.”

“C’mon, Abby. We haven’t danced in so long.” Before I can stop him, he reaches out, grabbing my

twirling me

away as a heat creeps

too late. With a mischievous laugh, Karl grabs me again, pulling me closer this

to sway along with him, partially victim to his Alpha aura and partially victim to my

feelings.

it, the cold, hard kitchen tiles are becoming our dance floor as the soft

us.

of the song fill the kitchen, Karl’s hand finds my waist, pulling

his fingers dance against my back, guiding our movements. Our

cold tiles, creating a

and warm, lock onto mine. Every turn, every

rush of

time and distance that has come between us,

familiar, comforting.

admit it, but… I’ve

those nights we used to spontaneously decide

and the infectious energy they promised. Karl had always been such a good dancer,

someone of his

confidence, a surety to them that drew me in. The way

way he led our pack—with authority and finesse. Dancing

steps or the music; it was an unspoken

love the feeling of being twirled under his arm, the

the beat. The world outside

rhythm that pulsed through our

and slightly teasing, breaks my

dance the night away? Every

till I was dizzy, and

about anyone watching.”

grip tightening around my waist for a brief

glint in his eyes, “at that club downtown. We danced for

our

I can’t help but giggle. “God,

we left.”

his gaze becoming more intense. “Well, dancing wasn’t

sweat, was it?”

in mock horror, and I smack his chest,

any real heat, and the flush that creeps up my face gives me

warm and infectious, and I

up a glare.

replaced by the soft hum of the music and the steady beat of

We’re closer now, our faces inches apart, our breaths mingling. The intensity of

split second,

reminding me of the boundaries, of the lines we’ve drawn. The

that I’ve drawn.

I gently pull away, breaking

feel, or maybe because I want to

fridge. “Are you hungry?”