Chasing His Kickass Luna Back Chapter 334

Abby

I push through the swinging doors into the already bustling kitchen of Adam’s restaurant, the rich and familiar scents enveloping me like a warm hug. My staff look up with a mixture of surprise and excitement to see me striding in so early.

“Abby!” Daisy spots me first, her face lighting up. The others whirl around with various exclamations of their excitement filling the air. Here we are again, back together. The kitchen may be foreign, but the company isn’t.

Laughing, I find myself surrounded by my tight knit little family. John’s crushing bear hug lifts me right off my feet.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” I say with a giggle once John finally sets me down. I hug each person in turn, so relieved to see that everyone came.

I was elated to find out that they were all interested in this opportunity when I told them about it just a few days ago, and I’m even more elated to see how quickly we all pulled together.

I take a deep steadying breath as we get started on the day, feeling unexpectedly emotional. But there’s no time for sentimentality on the first dinner shift in this new place.

“Alright everyone, let's get prepped. We have a full reservation book tonight!”

The team leaps into action, with John and Anton already calling out orders like old times. I survey this gleaming new kitchen, quickly orienting myself. I did, of course, visit a lot when Adam and I were together; but he’s renovated since then, so it’s all new to me now.

Soon, however, we’ve established an efficient rhythm, with our usual jokes and teasing shouts flying as pans sizzle and knives chop. Daisy and Chloe are filling in as waitresses, while John, Anton, and I handle the line. Ethan is expediting orders, making sure that everything gets out on time.

Before I know it, it feels like I never left the kitchen. It was all too easy to forget how much I missed this, but I’m glad I took Adam’s suggestion. And I think my team is glad, too.

“Filet mignon, coming out hot!” John calls out.

“French onion soup as a side,” Anton adds, sliding the little ceramic bowl across the line.

“Don’t forget the garnish, Ethan,” I say as I plate everything and set it on the heating rack.

Ethan nods. “Gotcha.”

“It’s good to be back, Chef,” John says with a wink.

I can’t help but grin. “It sure is.”

…

After three hours of a grueling but exciting dinner rush, the last ticket finally comes in. I high five my team, my face glistening with sweat from the heat of the ovens but a sense of pride washing over me.

“Flawless as always, guys,” I say. “Let’s get this station sparkling and then we can all relax for a minute.”

Just then, however, the kitchen doors swing open abruptly. Laura, one of Adam’s servers, pops her head in. “Excuse me, Chef, there’s a customer insisting he speak with you.”

I frown, wiping my hands hastily on a towel. Customer complaints already? “I’ll be right out,” I assure her. With an encouraging nudge from Anton I follow Laura back through the winding maze of tables.

She gestures toward a far corner. “That gentleman there. He didn’t seem angry, but very insistent…”

I spot the man in question, who’s looking around expectantly. Shoulder length dark hair frames a striking face that’s dominated by sharp green eyes and a tastefully groomed beard. He rises with fluid grace as I approach, offering a charming smile.

“Ah, you must be the extraordinary Chef Abby I’ve heard so much about!” His voice lilts with an accent I can’t quite place. He clasps my hand in both of his large ones. “Forgive me for interrupting your evening.”

I swallow, managing a smile as I meet his gaze. “Not at all,” I say. “What can I do for you?”

The man smiles warmly, making my shoulders relax a bit. “I just had to pass along my sincere compliments. The food here is exquisite thanks to your obvious talent.”

I feel my cheeks warm a bit, caught off guard by such a kind greeting from this handsome stranger. “Oh, um, thank you,sir. I’ll be sure to tell my team—”

“Please, call me Damon.” Those intense green eyes don’t release me. “I must confess, I’ve followed your budding career for a while now. You have a remarkable instinct for flavor pairings. I was devastated to hear about your restaurant.”

My throat tightens at the mention of my restaurant. I offer a thin smile. “It was certainly a huge blow. But I’m fortunate things worked out to join on here with my staff instead. Until my restaurant reopens, at least.”

“And it will.” Damon’s smile spreads.

Before I can answer, he suddenly clasps my hand again in both of his. “I actually have a proposition for you,” he says. “I’ve got an event coming up that needs catering. I’d like to ask if you could do me the honor.”

I stare at this strange man, my pulse leaping at the unexpected opportunity. It’s exciting, but there’s so much at stake right now that I’m not sure if I can manage it. “Oh, well, I’d have to speak with my—”

“Please, just take my card,” Damon insists. “I would compensate you richly.” He presses a plain white card with a small amount of text on it into my palm, his hands lingering on mine. “Promise you will consider it, at least?”

Those striking eyes seem to see straight through to my very soul. I lick my suddenly dry lips. “I...yes. Yes, of course,” I say. “I’ll think about it. Thank you for the opportunity.”

Damon’s smile broadens, something sharp in it making me shiver. With immense effort I take a subtle step back out of his orbit. The intensity fades slightly from Damon’s expression. He nods politely, taking a step back himself.

“Wonderful. I greatly look forward to working with you, lovely Abby.” He slips his hands into his pockets in a casual way that seems almost out of place on his formal figure. “Have a splendid evening.”

I blink, feeling slightly dazed as I watch Damon stride gracefully out of the restaurant without so much as a backwards glance. Only once the door closes behind him do I finally let out a shaky breath that I didn’t even realize I was holding.

What on earth was that about? Some foreign investor dead set on having me specifically cater his event? It seems almost too extraordinary to be real.

I turn Damon’s business card over between my fingers thoughtfully. There’s no logo, no insignia, nothing other than a name and a phone number. Damon Eyler. Weird. I wonder if he’s some kind of foreign diplomat or businessman or something.

“So? How did it go with Mr. Moneybags back there?”

I jump at Laura’s teasing voice in my ear, breaking me out of my reverie. Laura watches me expectantly as she wraps some silverware in a cloth napkin.

I force a casual shrug. “Oh, he had some catering opportunity he wanted me to consider,” I reply. “Claims to be a ‘fan’ of mine. I’ll have to talk to my staff.”

“And Karl,” my wolf whispers. She’s not wrong; Karl might recognize this man’s name. Maybe he’ll have some insight.