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

together, and he certainly never brought it

we were together.”

mom used to make them all the time when I was little. It was my favorite dessert. She

to make the best souffles ever,” he confesses,

one up?”

me. “Sure. I’d love to see you

yolks from the whites, stirring

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

time at

the dish, setting it on the counter. The souffle has risen

a promise of the fluffy,

spoon into it and extends it toward

in my mouth—cheesy, eggy, and utterly perfect.

a savory ta ng, but Karl

two opposite

tension, the arguments, they

culinary

you, Karl. This is amazing,” I finally manage, breaking the

nothing. I was glad to

back to my apartment later that night, a

the sous chef I need for the competition? He’s been getting better,

kitchen. And, even though we have our moments, we also

fact that we could function together as

quickly shake off the idea. No, he doesn’t have enough experience. It would be silly

as my sous

Right?

…

with a steaming cup

lady. How

I say with a grin, gratefully accepting the frothy coffee. “Had

night.”

a seat on one of

“How so?”

“I was struggling with a souffle recipe. But you’re not

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

thought?”

face tightens.

“Yes, why?”

him to stay away from you, Abby. I thought I was doing you a favor.

doesn’t listen.”

and a little annoyed.

about how you decided to go through with the competition. I

he should just pis s off,

make my head reel. While I understand the sentiment behind them, something about

me angry; maybe it’s because I only just told her that