Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 60: Harmony
I’m standing over a steaming pot of ragù, stirring as I listen to the sizzle and pop of ingredients melding

together in culinary harmony.

The kitchen is a whirlwind of activity, the dinner rush in full swing. But amidst the orchestrated chaos, a

discordant note strikes my ears. It’s John, my head chef, talking to another member of the kitchen staff.

“The guy just can’t get it together,” John grumbles. “It’s like he’s deficient or something. Honestly, why

Abby even hired him of all people is beyond me.”

I immediately recognize that he’s talking about Karl. I would normally be bothered by this sort of talk to

people’s faces, but today is Karl’s day off, which makes the conversation even more inappropriate.

And despite what I think about Karl, it’s not cool to be talking behind a coworker’s back. Especially not

in my kitchen, where I value respect.

“I swear,” John continues, oblivious to the fact that I can hear him, “he’s a downright jackass. And he

can’t follow directions to save his life. Hell, my kid was watching that one movie the other night, what’s

it called… Alice in Wonderland. He reminds me of Tweedledee. Now all we need is a Tweedledum.”

John bursts out into laughter, clearly amused by his own jokes. No one else laughs; maybe because

they’ve realized that I’m right here, listening to every word.

I’m well aware that Karl is still new to the restaurant business, still trying to acclimate to the hierarchy

and flow of the kitchen. But we all started somewhere, and the last thing he—or any of us—needs is a

colleague undermining him behind his back.

With a sigh, I delegate the sauce to someone else and wipe my hands on a kitchen towel.

“John, could you come into my office for a moment?”

His face pales a fraction, as if he knows he’s been caught. “Erm… Sure, Abby,” he responds, his voice

edged with trepidation.

Once we’re behind the closed door of my office, I sink into my chair. I watch John as he hesitates,

clearly uncomfortable, before taking the seat across from me.

cut straight to the chase, my eyes meeting his

his hair. “Look, Abby, he makes a lot

belligerent when anyone tries

chest, feeling a mixture of frustration and disappointment. John isn’t

an Alpha, and there’s no doubt about it. But

he should be badmouthed when he’s not

since we opened,” I say gently. “You know better

they’re not here to defend

this establishment.”

to flinch at my words. “I understand that, Abby.

reply, my voice firm. “I

those restaurants where it’s a free-for-all. Everyone needs to

else. Got

solemnly. “I get it, Abby. I do. I’ll make sure it

do something about Karl. He’s not exactly ‘respectful’,

how to

out any issues you have with Karl when he’s present. Is

replies, his voice

to the door. He nods, stands up, and

alone with my thoughts.

my chair, my mind racing. The atmosphere in the restaurant, especially the

a finely tuned instrument.

dishwasher to the head chef, plays an important

disrupt the entire composition, and right

dissonance.

if I don’t appreciate the way he’s expressed them. Karl is

and struggling to fit into our tightly

willing to learn, two qualities

a heavy sigh escaping my lips. The confined space

with unresolved tension. Deciding I need a break from

out into

of chatter and clinking dishes serves as a momentary

the maze of tables and

to be in

effortless.

minute?”

What’s up?” he replies, looking up

I say, gesturing toward the

on the end of the

sliding over a bunch of cloth napkins

we start rolling silverware, I can’t help but feel a bit more grounded. There’s

simple, repetitive action, a contrast to the complicated