Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 454

Karl

As I lift another beam into place, a bead of sweat trickles down my forehead, but my attention is elsewhere. Across the field, Abby is in her element, orchestrating the kitchen with a natural ease.

There’s an undeniable rhythm to her movements, and I find myself watching her probably more than I should. I try to focus on my task, reminding myself I’m here for the approval ratings, not personal indulgences, but that’s easier said than done.

Abby looks gorgeous all of the time, but she’s even more stunning when she’s in her element. The pull between us is undeniable, too, and I can feel my wolf tugging at me whenever I look at her.

I can’t help but wonder if her wolf is pulling at her, too.

But then my mind wanders back to what happened late last night in the kitchen. She had asked what I thought would happen between us over a glass of wine, and I had answered as honestly as I could despite the storm of emotions raging inside of me.

I had told her what I secretly hoped, what I secretly wanted. Although, I guess it hasn’t exactly been a secret all this time.

And yet, when I had asked her the same question, she had blanched and practically fled from the room under the pretense of being tired and tipsy. It hurt a little, I won’t lie. Of course I want this relationship to be real and more than just a facade. Of course I don’t want to sleep with her casually.

But it’s rarely that simple, is it? Especially when you factor in the part where I divorced her and broke her heart once.

“Hey, Alpha Karl, need a hand with that?” a volunteer, a burly man with a friendly face, asks as he approaches, breaking me out of my deep train of thought.

“Thanks, Mike,” I respond, grateful for the distraction. Together, we lift the heavy beam into its slot. The structure of the new library is taking shape, piece by piece.

Mike wipes his brow and looks over at the cooking tent. “The food smells good over there. That’s Abby, right? Your Luna?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” I reply, following his gaze. “She’s incredible in the kitchen. Have you tried the food?”

Mike shakes his head. “No, but I can’t wait to try what they’ve whipped up. Heard a lot about her cooking.”

“Hopefully only good things,” I tease.

The burly volunteer chuckles. “Well, I won’t lie, I heard about what happened at the Alpha party,” he says. “But I also heard your speech the other night at the masquerade. And no one got sick from the food then, so… I hope it all works out for her.”

His words make me smile. “Thanks, man,” I say, shaking his hand. “Support like yours is important. We’re hoping her restaurant gets to reopen and whoever actually poisoned the food gets the justice they deserve.”

Just then, the lunch bell rings, cutting our conversation short. We make our way over to the tent where Abby and her team are serving food. The aroma is inviting, and my stomach rumbles in response. Volunteers queue up, chatting and laughing, the atmosphere light and cheerful.

I grab a plate, loading it with a generous helping of stew and a piece of crusty bread. However, just as I’m about to take my first bite, a voice rings out from behind me.

“Hope this doesn’t end like last time,” a volunteer jokes, nudging his friend. “Remember the Alpha party? I can’t afford to get sick.”