Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 63: Comatose
I’m standing by the stainless steel counter, doing my best to look like I’m occupied with inventory and

prepping the dough for our fresh bread in the morning.

But my real focus is on the fiery dance unfolding in front of me—Karl and John, circling each other in

the kitchen like two alpha wolves in a turf war. The tension is so thick you could spread it on toast.

“Karl! Chop those onions faster!” John barks, to which Karl surprisingly complies—and with a smile on

his face, no less. I’m pleased. It’s not perfect, but it’s their first night. I just hope that it gets better over

time.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes in my pocket, shattering the moment. I glance down; it’s a call from Calvin,

the representative for the cook-off. I’m suddenly flooded with a mixture of excitement and nerves. This

could be a game-changer for my career, for my restaurant, for me.

With a lingering glance at Karl, whose hands are meticulously arranging greens on a plate, I slip away.

I dart through the swinging door of the kitchen, my heels clicking urgently against the tile floor, and

make a beeline for my office.

Once inside, I close the door, leaning against it momentarily to collect myself. Taking a deep, steadying

breath, I swipe the screen and answer.

“Mr. Thompson, hi! Sorry I couldn’t take your call immediately. Things are a little hectic here.”

“No worries, Abby.” Calvin’s voice is as smooth as I remember, professional with a tinge of friendliness.

“I know you’re a busy woman. That’s part of why we wanted you for the cook-off, actually.”

My heart swells with a combination of pride and anticipation. “Thank you, Mr. Thompson. That means a

lot.”

“Now, onto why I called you: I’ve just received the recipe list for the cook-off,” he continues. “I’ll be

sending it to you via email shortly. You’re welcome to spend the coming weeks practicing, but keep in

mind that only three recipes will be chosen from the list, and you won’t know which ones will be chosen

until the time of the competition. The format will involve each contestant cooking a three-course meal:

an entree, and a

as he speaks. This

I repeat. “Got

allowed to

to help you during the competition. Only

say, already wondering who I would bring. John, most likely. Or

the line, but

will eliminate the lowest-scoring contestant until

Abby, and

his words. Challenge is exactly what I need right

myself into, something that isn’t fraught with emotional landmines like my

situation with Karl.

on the local news once for a brief five-minute

says, and I can hear his warm smile through

best. Everything will be taken care

you, Mr. Thompson,”

Abby,” Calvin assures me. “Check

the smile on my face probably wide

I clutch my phone to my chest, my eyes fluttering closed

corners of my

joy, of potential, of a future

can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe this is real. I’ve

in front of me like

it, wherever it may

center myself, I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

kitchen, to the tensions and

…

kitchen is bustling with activity, the aroma of sautéed garlic

in, glancing around at my team, my eyes falling

empty.

intensity of his glare could probably singe the

is as palpable as the heat emanating from the stovetops. I steel myself for

coming.

Where’s Karl?” I venture cautiously, already suspecting

lock onto mine. “Your newest prodigy, the illustrious Karl…” He spits the

out. On his first night on the line. He threw down

everything. What a diva.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know. I’ll handle it,” I

on my heels. I don’t want to be caught in the crossfire between

the

There’s Karl, leaning against the brick wall. He’s holding a cigarette up to

approach, I hear him mutter something, a soft curse, beneath