“Ha!” Tripp pounded his fist in the air when he got back to his room. Jenneca had been happy to see him and she left Jorge. Who knows what she could have been talked into in the claws of Jorge, but she had left. And what did that mean? It meant, Tripp still had a shot.

And her eyes had been grateful. Her eyes. The first thing he had loved about Jenneca Faluna. Who knew that the sweet and fun bakery worker would turn out to be the most caring woman he had met, someone who put others first, who would risk her spot on the Olympic team for her mother and her family bakery. Who knew she was J.C. world renowned women’s skier, pursuing her dreams with a persistence and hope that he found so admirable. So much more than any of the girls who sat on the edge of his acquaintance, she far excelled any of them, and he felt lucky to know her.

But they were in this weird spot. She avoided his touch like it burned. And he knew it was his fault. Well, he would prove to her she meant more to him than all the groupies that surrounded the royals, more to him than any other girl he had ever known. Somehow he would help her see.

He didn’t know how, but for now, he could sleep with a smile because she had left that weasel Jorge. And there was always tomorrow at the training flags.

More serious at the thought of the flags, he wondered if he could bring his speed down. After a week up here, he would know if it were possible. His old coach was coming in tomorrow to meet him at the top and work him through some races, watch his form. A tiny flicker of hope told him there was no harm in trying.

The next morning, after the best sleep of the past two weeks, he rose early, snarfed down the breakfast they delivered, and rushed to the slopes. The ski shop had all his equipment primed and ready. “Good to see you again, Tripp.” The ski shop employee smiled and handed him his skis.

“These look fantastic. Let’s hope for some good times today.”

“They’ll post them up on the wall. I’ll be hoping too.”

Tripp smiled, warmed by good people. He jumped on the lift in the lobby, heading up the hill. Before it hit the edge of the hotel lobby, when it would burst up the hill, being one of the quickest lifts in the world, Jorge hopped on with him.

“What?”

“Hello, your highness.”

“Hmm. What are you doing here, Jorge?”

“I’m going to work out, same as you.”

Tripp shrugged. He was not going to let Jorge’s annoying presence disturb his hopeful day.

“I haven’t heard from Jenneca.”

Tripp hid his smile. “Oh?”

“Don’t look so smug. I mean, I really haven’t heard from her. She wasn’t at breakfast. No one knows where she is.”

A ping of worry bothered Tripp. “It’s still early.”

Tripp brought his phone out of the sleeve zipper where he kept it. He added his own text to the others.

“She’s a big girl, Jorge. But if you wouldn’t mind sharing if you do hear from her, I’d appreciate it.”

“Same from you.” Jorge’s eyes held concern and Tripp reached his hand out. “I will.” They shook and he felt an odd sense of camaraderie.

Tripp lifted his ski tips and exited the chair, anxious to start his runs for the day. Jenneca stayed at the back of his mind, wondering if she was hiding, if his interference last night had really been too much and now she was avoiding training because he was here. If that were the case, he would leave. He couldn’t jeopardize her position or her opportunities.

At the top gate, he waited for the buzzer, pulling back and forth and back, ready to fly out of the chute.

He tore down the hill, the world whipping by him while he watched the flags. He took the first, hugging it as tight as was allowed. He tore across to the second, almost reckless in his speed. He took it at just the right angle and tore back across to the next flag. His concentration was precise, his vision clear, sharp. He took flag after flag. When he flew across the line at the bottom, a small group of people cheered. He spun to a stop and whipped his eyes up to the digital board. “WOOP!” He pounded his fist in the air. His best time yet. And a few cameras clicked, phones out, trained on him.

His phone pinged. That was a different noise. He took off his gloves, unzipped the cellphone pocket and brought it out to his front. Jenneca had shared her location with him. He smiled. Take that, Jorge. He zoomed out to see where she was and frowned. If the location was accurate, she was pinging him from the middle of a mountain wilderness area. She’d done a heli-drop, looked to be the same mountain range they were on the last visit. He whipped out a text to her, asking about her position.

He texted his assistant, told him to arrange for a helicopter in fifteen minutes on the back helipad. And for emergency supplies to be delivered there. And asked that he contact the emergency response teams at the resort. Then he texted Jorge.