Jenneca clicked into her ski boots. Tripp had dismissed her from his life, sent her away. So she left. He was right. Alonzo was home. The bakery had been fixed, and Tripp had done everything to make it special. She stopped by the shop before she left and their whole kitchen had been updated with state of the art equipment, timed ovens, all the latest in baking. And details that warmed her heart. He had kept part of their original oven intact, had made sure it had a plaque, “Serving Torren since 1697” And he had placed an old photo, the first one taken of the Valdez royal family and the Faluna family, gathered in front of their shop.

Their computer systems and cash registers had been updated and Alonzo told her, Tripp had hired someone to run their online store and to begin taking orders. Overnight they had been inundated and a whole new staff hired. Alonzo was up to his elbows in baked goods and untrained staff and he had never looked happier. Mother kept to the palace. She said it was time her old bones took a break, and Jenneca was happy for her.

There was talk of a new store, in the modern part of Torren, the shopping district, near all the designers. They would serve only their high end goods in that store and planned to include their royal favorite’s line so that people could eat the treat of choice from the various kings and queens through the years. It was an exceptional marketing plan. And she was relieved that things in the store were well in line.

But as she took the first run of the day, she admitted a sense of loneliness niggled at her happiness. All those wonderful things were happening at home and she was far away on the cold slopes of Austria.

The coach had been vocally relieved and told her often she had almost stayed away too long.

So she dug in and raced down the slopes. Yesterday she had reached her best time yet, even before her injury and hope filled her as she prepared for the trials.

But every night when she tried to get to sleep early, Tripp’s face rose up in her thoughts, mocking her happiness.

She caught the next lift up, ready to pound her frustrations out in the fastest run of her life. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. Taking off her gloves, carefully removing her phone, she saw Jorge’s face on her screen. She frowned and put it back in her jacket pocket, zipped it closed with a firm finality and then replaced her gloves.

She shouldn’t be so irritated with Jorge. He had been sweet, had come all the way to Torren. He waited respectfully for any time she had free to spend with him. He encouraged her in her dreams. And his were the same. It would be a simple enough match. And at one point her heart had pounded at the thought of him. But now, she couldn’t summon any excitement. Life was so unfair, and timing so often out of sync where love was concerned. Why could he not have cared for her back when she was so enamored with him?

And Tripp. She groaned again at the thought of him. She would never be rid of her lovesick fascination with a man who was simply not interested.

A better man she had never met. His efforts for those in need, his patience with them in his home, his tireless unselfish focus on others, his ready smile. She shook her head. “Stop it.”

No one was around to think her crazy for talking to the snow.

After a full day of the flags, she was tired, and ready for a break. Jorge stumbled off the lift right after hers and entered the hotel ski shop. As they handed off their equipment, their muscles shook from fatigue and he turned to her and grinned. “We are a sorry pair of skiers. If our sponsors could see us now.”

She smiled. “The true story of the life of a world champion skier.”

He leaned up against the carpeted counter. “Dinner? Somewhere quiet?”

That sounded nice. He seemed harmless. “Yes, just what I need. Quiet is good.”

“How about my room?”

She lifted an eyebrow.

“I have a sitting room.”

She half nodded. “Ok. I’ll be there at 7.”

His grin grew slowly until it spread across his face. “See you then.”

As soon as she entered her room, she regretted her dinner with Jorge. But she didn’t feel like she could back out now. He had been so good to her, so kind, and she was exhausted. She talked herself into feeling comfortable with the idea.

She let the hot water of her shower fall over her and allowed herself to think of Tripp. She saw on the news that the country was getting cleaned up. The papers were complimentary of the governance of Torren, of the quick way the royal family had responded to the crisis. Alonzo had told her the bakery was doing better than ever. That they were struggling to meet the high demand.

And then Dahlia Valdez, the only sister in the family who was rarely home and who Jenneca hadn’t seen in years, had apparently come home to help with the clean-up. She had posted multiple pictures on her Instagram account eating various treats from Stefano’s. The sales had leapt after that, and Alonzo had further broadened their staff and made plans for a third store.

As the potential for more income brightened the prospect of being the sole owner, so did his motivation. She had never seen her brother happier. With the influx of money, she dared to schedule another heli run. Something for her to do to clear her head. Because if the bakery didn’t need her, she would ski, but what else? Perhaps she could start up classes at university again. The wide wilderness and snow filled mountain would help clear her mind and help her decide.