The hike had been challenging, and she’d worked up a bit of a sweat under her parka, and the sudden addition of the cold air was making her shiver violently.

“Big step down, then there’s a ledge under the surface,” he said, holding her hand like he was an old-fashioned gentleman helping her down from a carriage.

Stepping into the hot water was nothing short of glorious. The heat after such an extreme blast of cold made her tingle all over, and as he led her to the far side to sit on a deeper ledge, she heaved a deep, slow sigh. It felt like the cold, piney air was cleaning her lungs from the inside as her muscles surrendered to the blissful warmth.

“Wooow,” she breathed, and he smiled. “What’s with all these stones? It’s like a fancy outdoor spa.”

“This is a natural spring, but my father’s mother had it reinforced with these stones to make it a more comfortable—and less mucky—experience. To hear it told, she was quite the devotee.”

“This grandmother of yours just gets better and better.”

“I wish I’d known her.”

“But you do now, a little bit, don’t you? From the letters?”

They talked for a while about the magnitude of Max’s find, and when their conversation came to a natural lull, he asked, “Are you all toasty now?”

“Yep.” She held up a wrinkly finger. “Turning into a prune. I’m actually getting a bit overheated.”

He pushed off the ledge he’d been sitting on, moved to the middle of the spring—it was the size of two or three hot tubs—and said, “Dirty Dancing lift.”

“You were serious about that?”

“Would I joke about Dirty Dancing lifts?” When she didn’t answer, merely cracked up, he said, “Come on. It will cool you off.”

“All right, you weirdo.” She moved toward him, lifted her arms over her head as she got close. He came in smooth as anything. As his hands splayed her hips, they were totally in sync. He lifted, and she jumped like this was a choreographed routine they’d done a thousand times.

“Eee!” she said as she reached the top of the lift. The cold mountain air was making steam rise off her hot skin. It was exhilarating. It was silly.

It was perfect.

“Don’t dive,” he said from below her. “There’s probably enough clearance, but let’s not test it. I don’t want you to hit your head on the rock.”

“Okay.”

She expected him to sink down in the water, to lower her like an elevator, but instead he executed a move Patrick Swayze would envy, rolling her down into his arms. As they grinned at each other, both of them panting, she could almost believe they’d completed a triumphant, end-of-the-movie dance that had turned all their critics into applauding fans.