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.

issue with Karl?” I cut straight to the chase,

running his fingers through his hair. “Look, Abby, he makes a lot of mistakes. He’s s

can get downright belligerent

arms over my chest, feeling a

Karl is an Alpha,

he’s not even around to defend

you’ve been with this restaurant since we opened,” I say

defend

this establishment.”

at my words. “I understand that,

reply, my voice firm. “I don’t want you making a bad

where

everyone else. Got

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

do something about Karl. He’s not exactly

I say with a sigh, already wondering how to broach the

such shaky ground. “We’ll sort out any issues you have with

replies, his voice

go,” I say, gesturing to the door. He nods, stands up, and exits my office,

alone with my thoughts.

The

a finely tuned instrument.

individual, from the dishwasher to the head

right now,

dissonance.

John’s concerns, even if I don’t appreciate

in the culinary arts, and struggling to fit into our tightly knit

two qualities

sigh escaping my lips. The confined space of my

Deciding I need a break from this

out into the bustling

clinking dishes serves as a momentary distraction

the maze of tables and

seems to be in his element, his

effortless.

minute?” I

lady. What’s up?” he replies, looking up

help with the silverware?” I say, gesturing toward the pile of spoons, knives,

the end

replies, sliding over a bunch of

I can’t help but

contrast to