Chasing His Kickass Luna Back by Jane Above Story

Chapter 114

Abby

The clock on the wall reads 11:30 PM, its ticking slicing through the quietness of my office like a knife.

I’m engrossed in the sea of paperwork in front of me when there’s a knock on the door—soft but

persistent. My eyes dart up, half-expecting to see Chloe or maybe Leah, but it’s Karl leaning against

the doorframe.

“Hey,” he says, his eyes not quite meeting mine as he studies the pile of papers on my desk. “Am I

interrupting?”

His sudden appearance sets off a chorus of conflicting emotions inside me. Part of me wants to put up

the barriers again, but another part is surprised and, dare I admit, pleased to see him. It’s late, and I

thought that I was the only one left in the restaurant. As it turns out, I was wrong.

“No, not really,” I reply, setting aside my pen. “Just wrapping up some payroll stuff. What are you still

doing here? It’s late.”

“I wanted to stay late to prep the kitchen for tomorrow.” He pauses, his eyes now finding mine. “Saw

the light on under your door on my way out. Figured I’d check on you.”

The sincerity in his voice is disarming, but there’s a moment of hesitance between us, thick and almost

tangible. Finally, I break the silence. “Oh. Well, I’m fine,” I say, managing a stiff smile. “Thanks.”

Karl stands there for a few moments longer. It’s clear that he’s not planning on leaving, and I sigh,

setting my pen down again. Last night, he helped me with the souffle recipe again. But tonight, I have

other work to do. I can’t focus 100% of my time on preparing for the cook-off.

“What is it?” I ask, glancing up at him.

He shrugs. There’s an almost mischievous look in his eyes, like there’s something that he wants to say

but isn’t saying it. “Bar’s still open,” he says, glancing at his watch. “I was thinking of grabbing a drink.

Wanna join me?”

Karl’s proposition takes me by surprise. All this time, I’ve tried to contain our interactions to the

restaurant and the restaurant only. It’s easier that way. But then, at the same time, it is late. I’ve been

staring at this spreadsheet for so long that the numbers are starting to dance on the screen in front of

me. Finally, with a resolved sigh, I shut my laptop.

“Sure. We can grab a drink. But just one, you hear me?”

He smiles, a subtle lifting of the corners of his mouth that used to drive me crazy in love. “One drink,”

he says. “I can live with that.”

After locking up the restaurant, we head to the bar down the street. The transition from the solitude of

my office to the casual ambiance of the late-night setting feels almost surreal. This bar is known for its

cozy atmosphere, creaky wooden floors and comfortable seating.

As I slide onto a stool, Karl takes the seat beside me. The bartender comes up to us and leans on the

bar. I recognize him well; I’ve frequented this bar on Friday nights over the years since I bought the

restaurant.

“Hey, Abby,” the bartender says, nodding politely to Karl in turn. “What can I get you two?”

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can, Karl speaks up. “Two whiskeys. Neat.”

As the bartender shuffles off, I raise my eyebrow at Karl. “Always the Alpha, huh?” I tease lightly,

smirking. “Couldn’t let me order my own drink?”

Karl grins. “Like you wouldn’t have ordered the same thing anyway. I know you, Abby.”

He’s right; he does know me. Too well, in fact. The bartender pours us a couple of whiskeys, and as the

liquid warmth spreads through me, the lines between past and present blur a bit. I find myself wanting

to lean closer to Karl, a primal instinct of our bond, but I fight against it. I made a promise to myself, and

a little whiskey and some light chit-chat won’t change anything.

“Look, Abby,” Karl starts, his fingers nervously circling the rim of his glass. “I need to apologize.”

I’m caught off guard. I thought that Karl’s reconciliation with Chloe yesterday was enough of an apology

on his part, at least for the time being. “Apologize?” I mutter. “Why? For what?”

“For not being supportive of the competition. I know it’s important to you and to the restaurant. I

shouldn’t have been such a jerk about it. I was…” He pauses, his brown eyes studying the glass of

whiskey in front of him. “Selfish.”

His words hang in the air between us, charged and filled with an honesty that disorients me. I could

choose to be skeptical, cautious. But something tells me this is different.

“You know that means a lot to me, Karl,” I murmur. “Thank you. But you already apologized the other

night.”

A soft sigh escapes Karl’s lips. “I know. But I don’t feel as though it was enough.”

“Enough? I—”

“Let me finish,” he says gently, his brown eyes filled with sincerity. “I’m so proud of you, Abby. And… I

want to support you throughout all of this. So whatever you need, I’m here. We’re gonna make sure

you win this competition.”

I can feel my heart swell a little at his offer. The man I used to love—the man I still have complex

feelings for—standing by me? It’s a dream and a potential nightmare wrapped into one, but right now,

the dream is winning.

For a moment, I almost consider offering him what’s been on my mind lately: that I want to make him

my sous chef for the competition. But just as I’m about to open my mouth, I decide against it. I already

made up my mind; Karl is helpful and we have pretty good chemistry when push comes to shove, but

he’s just not experienced enough.

Honestly, I’ll probably choose John in the long run. I trust him a lot more now that he’s gotten his

attitude in check, and I’m less worried about him losing his cool on television. Maybe.

“That’s… Wow,” I finally say, swallowing. “Thank you, Karl. That’s really sweet of you.”

Karl smiles, his eyes meeting mine in a moment of vulnerability that sends a shiver down my spine.

“Well, it’s the least I can do.”

Then, as if on cue, his eyes narrow slightly, and I can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“However…”

“However?” I can feel my chest tightening.

Karl’s lips turn up into a soft smirk, indicating that his gesture of good faith wasn’t the only thing that he

wanted to talk to me about tonight.

“However… I do have a favor to ask of you.”

My sigh is involuntary, almost reflexive. Of course he wants something in return. My walls, temporarily

lowered, rise up again, creating a palpable distance between us even as we sit so close. But still, the

disappointment doesn’t entirely erase the warmth his earlier words brought me.

“A favor?” I echo, trying to keep my voice neutral.

Karl nods. “Yes. A favor. A small one.”

Great, I think to myself. Of course there’s a catch to Karl’s kindness. When is there ever not a catch?