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, and a

speaks. This is more structured

courses,” I repeat. “Got

to

the

wondering who I would bring. John, most likely. Or maybe Ethan. He

experience behind the line, but he’s

“Each round will eliminate the lowest-scoring contestant until

and a real challenge. And… It

words.

to throw myself into, something that isn’t

situation with Karl.

only been on the local news once for a

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

producers are the best. Everything will

Thompson,” I manage,

you, Abby,” Calvin

on my face probably wide enough to split it in

I clutch my phone to my chest, my eyes fluttering

in a while, tears prick the corners of

They’re tears of joy, of potential,

believe this is real. I’ve worked so

of me like a

wherever it

myself, I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

that is my kitchen, to the tensions

…

activity, the aroma of sautéed garlic

my eyes falling on John. Beside him, where Karl should

empty.

his glare could probably

the heat emanating

coming.

Where’s Karl?” I venture cautiously,

prodigy, the illustrious Karl…”

his first night on the line. He threw

everything. What a diva.”

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

don’t want to be caught in the crossfire between these

cold air in the alleyway hits me like a wave,

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

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