His smile was slow and victorious and entirely too pleased for a man who’d simply suggested carbohydrates.
“So let’s go,” Nate said.
Chapter Fourteen
The cable car doors hissed open, disgorging them onto the concrete loading platform and straight into a tourist gauntlet: a thicket of camera straps, sun hats, and trekking poles brandished like swords. Nate followed Ella out, pulse spiking for reasons that had nothing to do with the altitude.
She marched ahead, all long legs and thatdamndress—flared and bouncing with every step, the wind playing dirty with the hem. A sudden gust lifted it, revealing the curve where thigh met hip, before the fabric settled again.
His brain short-circuited.
Which was why he completely missed the kid charging directly into his path. He appeared out of nowhere, an ice cream cone wobbling precariously in one sticky fist. Nate clipped the little human just enough to send him staggering sideways.
“Whoa—hey, sorry, buddy.”
The boy squinted up at him, processing, then shrugged in the resilient way only children could manage before darting away, the cone miraculously still intact.
Nate watched him go, dragging a hand down his face. “Focus,” he muttered under his breath.
He looked up again. Ella had stopped a few yards ahead at a giant wall map bolted to the side of the station, completely oblivious to the mental hurricane trailing behind her—and how close he’d come to blurting everything out at the museum. If he had…
Yeah. He wasn’t going there.
Not today. Not with Ella being… well, Ella.
“Okay, sore head be damned—I’m glad we did this,” she said over her shoulder as they strolled out of the cable car station and into the sudden sprawl of sky. Tourists fanned out across the summit, cameras clicking, voices overlapping in a dozen different languages, the lake flashing blue far below.
They drifted farther from the station, the ground softening into grass, the noise thinning to a manageable hum. Ella dropped down first, folding herself cross-legged with an air of decision. “This looks good,” she said, patting the space beside her.
Nate sat and reached into his satchel, grateful for something practical to do with his hands. He pulled out the crumpled brown paper bags, the tops folded down and translucent with butter. Ella opened one and let out a reverent hum that did something unsettling to his nervous system.
“Croissant and pain au chocolat,” she said, peering inside. “I take back everything judgmental I’ve ever thought about you.”
His chest loosened. Not much. A millimeter, maybe—but it mattered. The emotional equivalent of loosening a belt notch after a big meal.
“Judgmental?” he asked, mustering a laugh. He knew her approval shouldn’t matter this much. He knew it absolutely shouldn’t feel like a small victory every time she smiled at him like that. And yet—here he was.
Ella just bobbed a shoulder.
Nate tore a croissant in half and lifted it to his mouth. Halfway there, he froze. Lowered it again. “So, something’s been bugging me since this morning.”
Ella glanced over, crumbs clinging to her fingers like glitter. “Uh-oh.”
He jabbed the croissant in the air. “Mount Salève. I feel like I know it. Like it’s lodged somewhere in my brain. But every time I try to pin it down… blank.”
Her face lit up. “Oh. Frankenstein. Grrr.”
He blinked. “Huh?”
“Mary Shelley’sFrankenstein. She wrote parts of it while holidaying in Geneva. The Salève’s where the monster broods during his angsty teen phase.”
His brow furrowed. “Yeah,” he said slowly, “that’s not it.”
She stared at him. Then scoffed. “You’re such a dick.”
Before he could respond, she tore off a small piece of bread and flung it at his shoulder.
Nate barked a laugh. “Oh, that’s the best you’ve got?”
