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

we were together.”

to make them all the time when I was

souffles ever,” he confesses, almost shyly. “Would you like me to

one up?”

gets the better of me. “Sure.

sets to work, skillfully separating the egg yolks from the whites, stirring the flour and

everything in with care. I watch in amazement;

at the souffle

dings, and Karl retrieves the dish, setting it on the

top a promise of the

spoon into it and extends

flavors bursting in my mouth—cheesy, eggy,

souffle a savory ta ng, but Karl incorporated just

opposite flavors meld together into a symphony

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

the culinary

is amazing,” I finally manage, breaking the spell

I was

walk back to my apartment later that night, a stray thought

be the sous chef I need for the competition? He’s been getting better, and he knows

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

fact that we could function

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

him as my

Right?

…

steaming cup of coffee as I walk into

boss lady. How are you

a grin, gratefully accepting the frothy coffee. “Had a

night.”

the bar as I take a seat on one of the stools, her own coffee in

“How so?”

sip. “I was struggling with a souffle

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

thought?”

tightens.

“Yes, why?”

I thought I was doing you a favor. But apparently he

doesn’t listen.”

surprised and a little annoyed. “You

moping about how you decided

should just pis

reel. While I understand the sentiment behind

her that I needed to be trusted to make