CHAPTER SEVEN
Heart pounding, Brynn skied between the red and blue gates marking the downhill course. The adrenaline flowed, and she felt as if she could fly. Nothing beat racing. Just her and the mountain.
She tucked to pick up speed. Flurries fell, but not enough to affect visibility. Gray skies could cause flat light, but that wasn’t a problem today. She saw shadows and other things coming up on the course.
Her skis skidded the wrong way, and she felt out of control for a second, but she made it through the turn. Ruts had formed due to the fresh snow.
She nearly sat on her tails. Not on purpose. Corrected her position. Crouched lower. Crossed the finish line.
Spectators cheered, and cowbells clanged.
She’d made it.
Elation rocketed through her. She’d finished the race—both of the
