Bonus Kisses - Freya Barker Page 0,82

Taz is tying ropes.”

Spencer drops his bundle by the firepit and rushes over to stand beside his sister, peering up into the tree. “Cool! Can I come up, Aunt Taz?”

Sure enough, when I join them and tilt my head back, I can see Taz straddling a thick branch about ten feet up, affixing a rope to the trunk. “You break something you’ll ruin the trip, you know that, right?” I call up.

Her response is a wide grin aimed down at me. “I’m not gonna fall. Our Congolese drivers didn’t nickname me Makaku for nothing.”

“What does that mean? Maka–whatever,” Sofie asks.

Taz loops a second rope around the branch she’s sitting on before climbing down with more confidence than I feel. “Makaku—monkey,” she explains with a smile when she has two feet firmly back on the ground. “Best way to get fresh fruit in the Congo is to get it right from the tree; bananas, mangoes.”

“No fruit up there,” I point out.

“Nope, but a rope between this tree and that one over there,” she points to one about fifteen feet away, “will keep our food safe.”

“Why do you have to hang it in a tree?” Spencer asks, and this time it’s his sister who answers.

“So the bears and the mountain lions can’t get at it. Right, Aunt Taz?”

“Bears?” he looks around with a worried look.

“Don’t worry,” I quickly reassure him. “They don’t like people much, so they tend to stay away unless we leave food lying around. They don’t mind an easy meal.”

I watch as Taz hands one end of the rope she looped over the branch to Sofie. “Hold on, honey.” The other end she ties to the emergency tarp I had in the back of the truck. “Spencer? Do we have more tent pegs? Would you mind grabbing those?”

Eager to help, he runs off to look for them.

“The food would’ve been safe in the truck,” I whisper, sidling up to Taz.

“I know, but where’s the fun in that?” she mumbles under her breath, before making her way over to the second tree.

I grin as she loops another coil of rope diagonally across her torso, and easily climbs up.

Grabbing a beer and a chair, I sit down and enjoy watching her show the kids how to build a cover with the large tarp. This is even better than in my childhood dreams.

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

The kids are out of earshot, manning the two fishing poles at the edge of the river. It had been a bit of a struggle getting them to wear their life vests, but once they realized there wouldn’t be any fishing at all unless they put them on, they quickly complied.

Taz and I are keeping an eye from in the folding chairs we dragged to the water’s edge.

She turns her head my way, smiling. “How so?”

Instead of answering I reach for her hand, bring it up to my mouth, and kiss her palm. “You just are.”

I smile at her and turn my eyes back to the kids, in time to see Sofie with her back to the water, watching us. Before I have a chance to react, she throws down her fishing rod and takes off running toward the trees.

“Sofie!”

I shoot out of my chair and hightail it after her, trusting Taz will stay with Spencer.

She’s fast, darting through the woods, but with my much longer legs I have no trouble catching up with her. She’s crying when I finally hook her around the waist and swing her, struggling, up in my arms. I sit down with her on an overturned log and hold her until the crying subsides into sniffles.

“Sofie…Pipsqueak,” I start gently.

“Why?” Her pitiful plea cuts me deep. “Don’t you love Mom?”

“I do, and I always will. Your mom gave me the two most precious things in this world. You and your brother.”

“Then why—”

“Because I love your aunt, Taz, too,” I persist, even though I have no idea how to explain to an eight-year-old the difference. “If I could bring your mother back, believe me, I would in a heartbeat. I realize it’s difficult to understand, but as much as we miss your mom, I know she would want us all to be happy. She asked Aunt Taz to come home, so she could spend time with her before she died, but also so your aunt could look after us after Mom was gone.”

“I heard you fighting.”

I freeze at her softly spoken words. “Fighting?”

“You and Mom.”

“When was that?” I’m trying to think back to