Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

His gaze finally breaks from mine, looking at anything but my face. “I was just

checking something,” he says, his voice so low it’s a whisper.

“Oh, you were ‘checking something?’” I echo, my tone chalk full of disbelief. “By

switching labels and possibly ruining our dish? Hm?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it again, the perfect picture of guilt.

“I was just…” He stammers, his voice trailing off.

I can’t take it anymore. I’m getting those truffles—the real black truffles, the ones

that are balled up in his filthy little hand, about to be slipped into his pocket—for

Abby, one way or another.

Enter title…

a plan, I

competition, and snatch the truffles out of

out, loud enough for the others to hear. “Did Daniel

you up to this?”

truffles come into my possession, the sous chef’s face

something unreadable, and suddenly, he’s cradling his wrist, howling

pain.

wrenched my wrist! You hurt

stand there, truffles in hand, shocked. “I did no such

you!”

the pantry walls, drawing eyes toward us

falls deathly silent, save for

direction, eager to capture this drama for live

him! He’s lying!” I protest,

deceit. “He was swapping the ingredients. He took

truffles and—”

the narrative has shifted, and