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

recent confusion between us is still fresh in my

told him that I couldn’t have sex with

momentarily lost in thought. When he speaks, his

of surprises, but I

you. Let me

not only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re not still mad about

other day?”

running a hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t about that. It’s about…”

for the right words. “…Doing

but only

eyes glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance in them. “Wouldn’t dream

moves to stand beside me. With deft

of cocoa powder. The batter comes together beautifully, velvety

luscious.

of teamwork and teasing. There’s an unexpected

each other’s quips and focus on perfecting the

it’s slid

brushing my flour-covered hands on

grins, holding up a cupped hand full of flour. “How about a little fun while we

means, a cloud of white powder is

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

shock giving

amused. I look at him, my expression

my lips betray

deep, infectious sound. “Bring it on,

I scoop up a generous handful of flour and, with all the strength I

right at

him square

is shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt

laughter.

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

every direction, settling on

everywhere.

madness, it’s chaotic, but it’s also… freeing. As we duck, dodge, and counter-attack,

back in time.

our old shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times

laughing on the floor. And then, almost always, laughter would give way

intimate closeness.

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

the reminiscing threatening to reveal emotions

trying to keep

that the cake’s baking time is nearly up. “Okay, okay! Truce!” I call

hands raised in surrender.

covered head to toe in flour, grins. “Fine, truce. But only because you

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