Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 133

Abby

I’m in the kitchen organizing my thoughts, sketching out a mental roadmap for tonight’s three-course extravaganza as I mumble under my breath.

“Sauvignon Blanc with the salmon… Hmm… Maybe I should prepare cappuccinos with the torte for dessert…”

Just then, the door swings open, and in walks Karl, bags of groceries in hand. Gianna, his ever-present secretary, trails closely behind him.

My heart does a little dance at the sight of Karl, a knee-jerk reaction I’ve never been able to fully quell. Even with my wolf being asleep, the presence he creates when he walks into a room always makes her lurch in my mind, as though she can always sense him in her sleep.

In a way, it’s frustrating. I want to yell at my wolf for leaving me alone and then momentarily reappearing every time the man who broke my heart walks into the room, but I know it won’t do any good.

However, something else is on my mind right now. I can’t help but notice how well they seem to get along, Gianna laughing at something Karl has just said. A pang of jealousy surges through me.

“Hey, Abby. Got everything you asked for,” Karl announces, setting the bags on the countertop.

I shake off the jealousy, reminding myself that Karl and I are just friends now. “Thank you, both of you. This means a lot to me.”

“It’s nothing,” Karl replies, a softness in his eyes that makes my stomach churn with a mix of nostalgia and longing. “Need anything else?”

I shake my head. “No. I’m good, thanks.” Then, I turn to Gianna, determined to be cordial. “How are you doing, Gianna?”

“I’m fine,” she responds tersely, a frosty undertone to her voice. Then, shifting her attention to Karl, she says, “Could I speak to you privately? We need to sort some things out before the dinner.”

“Of course,” Karl says, casting a glance in my direction as if to say ‘I’ll be back soon.’ They both leave the room, Gianna leading the way with a sense of purpose.

I watch them go, feeling a strange knot tighten in my stomach. It’s not jealousy, not exactly, but it’s something—something that unsettles me.

“Else, can you hand me the Herbes de Provence?”

“Sure thing, Abby.”

A few years ago, when I was still the Luna, I prepared this very meal for the Alphas from neighboring packs. A triumphant smile tugs at my lips. Tonight is a reminder that I haven’t lost my touch.

My concentration is interrupted when another servant walks in. “The Alphas are arriving.”

“Just a few more minutes,” I say, not taking my eyes off the salmon filet sizzling in the pan.

Just as I’m about to declare it perfect, I realize that the crust isn’t quite what I wanted. It’s nearly there, but not quite. It would be easier to just let it slide, to declare it good enough, but that's not me. That’s not Abby, the renowned chef, the one who always gets it right.