“Uh-huh. Keep up,” Ella said with a grin.
They reached the broad square in front of the cathedral a few minutes later. It loomed over them, all stark stone and severe lines, and Nate frowned. “That’s it?”
Ella stopped short, turning to face him with her brows raised. “That’s Saint Pierre’s Cathedral. It’s, like, eight hundred years old.”
“Yeah, and it looks like someone’s sad, gray uncle.” He squinted up at the towering façade. “I expected… I don’t know. More pizzazz.”
Ella burst out laughing. “You expected pizzazz from a Protestant cathedral?”
“Hey, I’ve seen churches. They’ve got gold, they’ve got frescoes, they’ve got drama. This is more disappointed fortress.”
She shook her head, still laughing, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. The interior was just as understated—high ceilings, plain walls, rows of simple pews. No reverent saints, no gilded altars, just a lot of austere stone and the faint scent of old wood and candle wax.
Nate crossed his arms. “Okay, I take it back. This isn’t just unimpressive. It’s depressing.”
Ella tugged off her cap and slid her sunglasses onto the top of her head. She turned to him, hands on her hips. “Uh, that’s kind of the point.”
“Excuse me?”
“Calvin’s home base?” she said, like he was the one who’d missed the memo. “John Calvin? Ring any bells? Reformation? No frills, no idols, no sparkly distractions?”
He blinked. “Oh. Right. That guy.”
“That guy,” she repeated, deadpan, “slightly important historical figure.”
Nate waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah, smartass, I know who Calvin is. I just thought—” He gestured at the empty space. “I don’t know. More razzle-dazzle.”
Ella snorted. “You wanted razzle-dazzle from the guy who banned dancing?”
“Frankly, yes.” Nate dropped onto a pew, stretching his legs out in front of him. “I’ve been to Vegas. I know what a church can do with a little ambition.”
Ella sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. “Ugh. You’re so… American.”
“Yet here you are, choosing to spend time with me.”
She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t move away. “I’m starting to think that was a mistake.”
Nate grinned. “Too late.”
Ella tilted her head toward the narrow spiral staircase tucked into the corner of the cathedral. “Anyway, you should see the view from the bell tower.”
Nate groaned. “I take it there are stairs.”
“A lot of them,” she said, already standing and moving toward the entrance. “But totally worth it.”
He followed, shaking his head. “I think I preferred hungover Ella. At least she had the decency to complain about physical exertion.”
She whirled around and thumped him on the shoulder. “Hey, I’m charming when I’m hungover.”
“You’re a menace.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it, starting up the tight, winding staircase. Nate followed, his gazeabsolutely notdropping to the way her dress rode up as she climbed ahead of him.Nope. Not happening.He was agentleman. Areformedman. A guy who definitely wasn’t imagining how those legs would feel wrapped around his—
“Nate.” Ella’s voice snapped him out of it. “Are you good back there?”
“Yep,” he said too quickly. “Just admiring the, uh, architecture.”
She snorted but didn’t call him out, just kept climbing. By the time they reached the top, Nate’s thighs were burning, but the second he stepped out onto the platform, he forgot all about it.
