Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 55: Flour Fight
Abby

The ambiance of the restaurant after hours is one of muted stillness, a stark contrast to its bustling

daytime persona.

I absolutely cherish these moments, where the world seems to fade, and it’s just me and my culinary

creations.

Tonight, it’s not about a new dish or preparation for the next day’s service, nor is it even about the

upcoming cookoff for the Alpha party competition.

Instead, it’s personal. Chloe’s birthday is tomorrow, and there’s no way I’m going to let it slide without a

special treat. Hence, the covert operation: baking her a surprise birthday cake and finalizing our party

plans.

The ingredients lay sprawled on the counter: flour, sugar, eggs, chocolate, vanilla extract, and a myriad

of decorations. I’ve decided on a red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting—her absolute favorite.

As I start mixing the batter, a shadow unexpectedly looms over me.

Startled, I nearly drop the whisk. Turning around, I’m met with the piercing gaze of Karl. He stands

there, his arms crossed, a mixture of annoyance and curiosity evident in his brown eyes.

“Karl!” I exclaim, caught off guard. “What are you doing here? It’s late. You scared me half to death.”

He arches a brow. “Could say the same about you.”

Flustered, I reply, “I could ask you to leave since I literally own the place.”

His smirk is both infuriating and charming at the same time. “Trying to pull rank on me, Abby? Really?”

“Well, what do you want?” I sigh, not in the mood for his banter, especially given our recent encounter.

Instead of answering, he glances down at the mess on the counter, then back to me, eyes softening a

little.

“Baking a cake, huh?”

I nod, rolling my eyes. “Observant, aren’t we?”

“I can help,” he offers, surprisingly sincere.

“With the way you reacted the other day? I think I’m good, thanks,” I respond, a little sharper than

the recent confusion between us is still fresh in my mind, the

angrily since I told him that I

When he speaks, his voice is

be a fan of surprises, but I can’t bear

Let me

not only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze.

other day?”

hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t about that. It’s about…”

the right words.

heart. “Fine, but only if you promise not to mess it

with mischief, replacing the annoyance

moves to stand beside me. With deft hands, he

adding just the right amount of cocoa powder. The batter comes together beautifully,

luscious.

the next hour, it’s a blend of teamwork and

each other’s quips

poured into a mold, and it’s slid into

my flour-covered hands

a cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little fun while

process what he means, a cloud of white powder is flung at me, dusting my hair and

clinging to my hair, eyelashes, and the tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in wide-eyed disbelief,

shock giving way

both shocked and amused. I look at him, my

betray me. “You’ll pay

fills the room, a deep, infectious

another word, I scoop up a generous handful of flour and,

it right at

him square in

split second, the kitchen is shrouded

laughter.

becomes four, and before we know it, we’re engaged

Clouds of white powder fly in every direction, settling on counters, the floor,

everywhere.

it’s also… freeing. As we

back in time.

resurface—of simpler times

floor. And then, almost always,

intimate closeness.

fills my cheeks as flashes of those memories—of tangled limbs

I quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

trying to keep at

the cake’s baking time is

hands raised in surrender.

toe in flour, grins. “Fine, truce. But only because you said

gesture at the utter mess we’ve made. “Look at this! Now, who’s