Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

I move toward the standing mixer, throwing ingredients in, taking care to

measure with conviction. Cooking is one thing, but making is another; there is

no room for measuring mistakes. An extra tablespoon of sugar could ruin the

whole dish.

Karl grins, his voice cutting through the tension. “Don’t forget to breathe, Abby,”

he reminds me, shooting me a wink from across the table.

I let out a breath. “I’m breathing.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding the bowl of lemon zest toward me. “Everyone

knows that breathing involves keeping your chest perfectly still, your shoulders

stiff, your face red.”

Enter title…

but chuckle. “Alright, fine. You’ve

for a little while longer, zesting and

faster than I expected, but

that is, I reach for the nutmeg—only to pop open the lid and wince at

scent of

eyes narrowing. “That’s not

it’s not.” I frantically search for the correct spice, but

up.” I

the jar, labeled ‘cinnamon’ this time, smells

I mutter, my panic rising. “Paprika in the cinnamon jar? What’s

here?”

reaching into our spice cupboard up

jar labeled ‘nutmeg’ and hands it

be the right one. The other must have gotten mixed

at the clock makes my heart leap

I’ve wasted more time hunting for spices

documenting my struggle. Stifling

the mixture and get back to