I froze, trying to come up with an excuse as to why her wonderful suggestion was still on my drawing board. “I’m thinking about it.”
Her shoulders fell along with her expression. “Kira, don’t think too much. I’ve read some of your scripts, they’re good. Good enough to be accepted. Just put together a portfolio and submit that shit.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Is it?” She tilted her hand, not agreeing for a second.
“Can we talk about this later? I have a lot on my plate.” I gestured around the kitchen. “Starting with tonight’s dessert.”
“Fine, fine.” She nodded with a smile. “What else do you need to take out? I’m here to help.”
I grinned and opened the refrigerator, revealing the shelves and shelves of pies. Her eyes became saucers. There was a reason I chose peach this year. It was Claire’s favorite and just last week she’d been down about missing her grandma in Georgia. Peach pie was her family’s specialty.
“You are the best person ever,” she gushed, hurrying over to get a closer look. “You know that?”
I nodded. “I’m pretty great, so it’s to be expected.”
She giggled and threw her arm over my neck. “Happy summer, my love. May these heavenly pies bring us joy, love, and lots of sex.”
I held up my hands for her to slow down. “Okay, that’s a lot of pressure to put on my babies. I did not create them for wish-giving.”
She waved away my misgivings. “They can handle it. If they are even half as good as a typical Georgia peach pie - and I’m confident there are - they can handle any wish you make.”
I raised my brow, hoping some part of her superstitions would be right. This summer, I definitely had a few wishes to make.
I placed my hands on my hips, staring at the pies. “Well, here’s to hoping.”
Claire shook her head. “Here’s to knowin’”
