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

us is still fresh in my mind, the way

out angrily since I told him that I couldn’t

lost in thought. When he speaks, his voice is

be a fan of surprises, but

Let me help,

aback, not only by his words but the genuineness in his gaze. “You’re

other day?”

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

words. “…Doing

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

glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance

then moves to stand beside me. With

right amount of cocoa powder. The batter comes

luscious.

blend of teamwork and teasing. There’s an unexpected ease

each other’s quips and focus on perfecting

the batter is poured into a mold, and it’s slid into the preheated oven. “Now, we wait,”

brushing my flour-covered hands on

holding up a cupped hand full of flour. “How

a cloud of white powder is flung at

tip of my nose. I stare at Karl in wide-eyed

shock giving way to

look at him,

my lips betray me. “You’ll pay for

room, a deep,

up a generous handful of flour and,

right at

smacks him square in the face,

shrouded in

laughter.

and before we know

fly in every direction,

everywhere.

also… freeing. As

back in time.

shared kitchen resurface—of simpler times when we used

the floor. And

intimate closeness.

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

quickly turn away, the reminiscing threatening to

to keep at

cake’s baking

hands raised in surrender.

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

utter mess we’ve made. “Look at this!