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:

appetizer, an entree,

as he speaks. This is more structured

“Three courses,” I repeat. “Got

allowed to bring one assistant—or sous chef, rather—of

to help you during the competition. Only one.

would bring.

experience behind the line, but he’s

lowest-scoring contestant until we’re down to

will be a spectacle, Abby, and

courses through me at his words. Challenge is exactly what I need right

myself into, something that isn’t fraught

situation with Karl.

the local news once for a brief five-minute

your trepidation,” Calvin says, and I can hear his warm smile through the

are the best. Everything will be taken care

Thompson,”

excited to have you, Abby,” Calvin assures me. “Check

reply, the smile on my face probably wide enough to split

chest, my eyes fluttering closed

time in a while, tears prick the corners of my eyes for a reason other than heartbreak

joy, of potential, of

happening. I can’t believe this is

a new opportunity is unfurling in front of me like a path of golden breadcrumbs. And I want

it, wherever

a final deep breath to center myself, I tuck my phone back into my pocket. It’s

my kitchen, to the tensions

…

with activity, the aroma of sautéed garlic and simmering sauces filling the air.

my team, my eyes falling

empty.

the intensity of his glare could probably

is as palpable as the heat emanating

coming.

venture cautiously, already suspecting

mine. “Your newest prodigy, the illustrious Karl…” He spits the name out like

his first night on

everything. What a diva.”

for

don’t want to be caught in the crossfire

the back door, the cold air in the alleyway hits

the brick wall. He’s holding

him