Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

#Chapter 70: Soufflés and Heartaches
Abby

“Let me help you.”

Karl’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. Karl, of all people, wants to help me prepare for the competition

that we were only just arguing about? I can’t believe it.

“You’re joking,” I murmur.

Karl shakes his head, his eyes darting down to the failure of a souffle sitting between us. “Nope. Not

joking. Do you want my help or not?”

Part of me wants to accept his offer, but another part of me, perhaps the more logical part, decides that

maybe it’s not the best idea. I’m angry right now over my argument with Karl and this da mned souffle,

and I know that I wouldn’t exactly be the best kitchen partner tonight.

“I’m fine, Karl. Just a little tired,” I reply, forcing a smile. “Besides, you’ve been working all day. You can

head home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” he says quietly, sliding the souffle back toward me from across the cold

metallic counter. “I’m not tired, and home is boring. Let me help.”

I pause. I know that I should push him away and keep working on my own, not only so I can focus fully

on my preparations for the competition but also so we can both cool off after our arguments. But

something stops me. Maybe it’s the sincere look in his soft brown eyes.

“Sure,” I finally mutter, nodding. “I guess I could use some help.”

Karl doesn’t need to be told twice. I watch for a moment as he slips off his jacket, revealing his sinewy

biceps peeking out from beneath his short sleeves. I have to look away before I get too attached to his

image, and refocus my attention on my fourth attempt at making a souffle while he washes his hands.

Before I know it, the eggs and other ingredients are laid out before me, my whisk deftly beating the

eggs into a golden mixture.

“You know, I used to make souffles as a kid,” Karl says out of nowhere.

“You made souffles?” I can’t even begin to keep the surprise out of my voice. Karl rarely ever cooked

we were together, and he certainly never brought it up to me. “You

we were together.”

them all the time when I was little. It was my favorite

he

one up?”

the better of me. “Sure. I’d love to

skillfully separating the egg yolks from the whites, stirring the flour and

in with care. I watch in amazement; the man has finesse, and it’s

at

setting it on the counter. The souffle has risen

a promise of the fluffy, airy delicacy

a spoon into it and extends it toward me.

the flavors bursting in my mouth—cheesy, eggy, and

savory ta ng, but

sugar so that the two opposite flavors meld together

and for a moment, all the tension, the arguments, they vanish.

the culinary creation between

Karl. This is amazing,” I finally manage,

I was

later that night, a stray thought enters

the competition? He’s been getting better,

in a kitchen. And, even though we have our moments, we also know each

could function

he doesn’t have enough experience. It would be silly for me

as my sous

Right?

…

me with a steaming cup of coffee as I walk

lady. How are you

with a grin, gratefully accepting the frothy

night.”

Chloe asks, leaning on the bar as I take a seat

“How so?”

with a souffle recipe. But you’re not

offered to help. It’s crazy. He’s actually a master at making souffles. Who

thought?”

tightens.

“Yes, why?”

you, Abby. I thought I was doing

doesn’t listen.”

a little

decided to go through with the competition. I told

he should just pis s off,

While I understand the sentiment behind them, something about

angry; maybe it’s because I only just told her that I needed to be trusted to make my