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

between us is

out angrily since I told him

momentarily lost in thought. When he speaks, his voice is filled with a

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

not you. Let me help,

words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re not

other day?”

hand through his hair. “A bit, yeah. But this isn’t about that.

for the right words. “…Doing

but only if you promise not to

replacing the

then moves to stand beside me. With deft hands, he helps pour

cocoa powder. The

luscious.

next hour, it’s a blend of teamwork

that blossoms as we laugh at each other’s quips and

mold, and it’s slid into the preheated oven.

brushing my flour-covered

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

he means, a cloud of white powder is flung at me,

eyelashes, and the tip of my nose.

shock giving way to

shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at him, my expression feigned outrage, but

my lips betray me. “You’ll pay

the room, a deep, infectious sound.

another word, I scoop up a generous handful of

it right

flour smacks him square

second, the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then both of us erupt in

laughter.

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

powder fly in every direction, settling on

everywhere.

also… freeing. As we duck, dodge, and

back in time.

shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used to engage in

end up laughing on the floor. And then, almost always,

intimate closeness.

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

I quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to

to keep

baking time

hands raised in surrender.

grins. “Fine, truce. But only because you

my eyes, I gesture at the utter mess we’ve