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

I told him that

momentarily lost in thought. When he

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

not you. Let me help,

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

other day?”

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

the right words. “…Doing

but only

eyes glint with mischief, replacing the annoyance in them.

washes his hands quickly and then moves to stand beside me. With deft

just the right amount of cocoa powder. The batter

luscious.

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

laugh at each other’s

the batter is poured into a mold, and it’s slid into

flour-covered hands on my

a cupped hand full of flour. “How about

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

clinging to my hair, eyelashes, and the tip of my

shock giving way to

shriek, both shocked and amused. I look at

lips betray me.

a deep, infectious sound. “Bring it

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

right

flour smacks him square in the face, rendering him

For a split second, the kitchen is shrouded in silence—then both

laughter.

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

of white powder fly in every direction,

everywhere.

freeing. As we duck,

back in time.

simpler times when we used to engage

the floor. And then, almost

intimate closeness.

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

quickly turn away, the reminiscing

trying to keep at

oven, noticing that the cake’s baking time is nearly up.

hands raised in surrender.

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

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