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“A bit tired, but that’s usual now,” she continued. “Other than that, I feel good. Though I’d like some tea, if they have it?”
“Absolutely.” Blane signaled to a steward and requested the hot tea. In moments, Anne had a pot of hot water, cup, milk and sugar, and the steward opened and displayed a tea caddy for her to choose.
Anne chose Irish Breakfast and the steward went away.
“I’m impressed,” she said with a smile.
Blane propped his elbow on the armrest and rested his chin in his hand, gazing at her. “I know you like tea,” he said simply.
It was such a little thing, but Anne was absurdly touched.
They took off and she and Blane made small talk for a bit, then he apologetically excused himself to attend to business.
“Of course,” she said, waving her hand. “I’m fine. Go do your thing.”
He stood and brushed a kiss to the top of her head, his fingers combing through her hair.
“I’ll be back soon,” he promised.
Anne didn’t mind his absence. It gave her time to observe and absorb. This was the life she was stepping in to.
The back of the plane was filled with about a dozen members of the press. Blane’s staff took up the middle of the plane. The front was reserved for Blane himself and senior staffers. Including Linda. But the very front was just she and Blane. There were three stewards, one reserved exclusively for her and Blane. Speaking of which…
“What would you like for breakfast, ma’am?” The steward asked, handing her a menu.
She had a choice of a farmer’s market omelet with bacon and toast, or pancakes with blueberry compote and turkey sausage.
“I’ll have the omelet, please.”
“Excellent.” He took the menu back.
Anne sipped on her tea and watched Blane work. He worked the press like a master. He smiled, he shook hands, he answered question after question with no sign of tiring or irritation. The woman, his assistant, hovered behind him. He finally came back to her as she was finishing breakfast, which was delicious. She was pleasantly full. They even had her favorite black raspberry jam. How Blane had known about that, she had no idea.
He slid into the seat opposite her with a sigh. Within moments, breakfast was served to him as well. Anne noticed he’d opted for both entrees. She hid a smile. He was a growing boy, she supposed.
Blane dug in and motioned to her nearly empty plate. “Did you enjoy it?”
“It was wonderful. Thank you.” She nodded toward the back of the plane. “How was the press?”
He shrugged, pouring syrup onto his pancakes, then the compote. “It’s the press and they don’t like me very much. But you can’t avoid them.”
Another steward went by with a cart full of trays and began serving continental breakfasts to the passengers.
“I like watching you work,” Anne said in a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s kind of hot.” She winked at him.
Blane’s brows rose and his fork paused on the way to his mouth. “Does that mean you want to join the Mile High Club?”
Anne laughed out loud. She caught Linda looking at them, but she ignored her.
“I can’t think of a less sexy venue,” she said through her laughter.
Blane grinned and continued putting away the food at an alarming rate.
He stayed with her for the rest of the flight, though Linda did bring by some papers he had to look over. This time Anne noticed Linda was careful not to look at her.
They landed mid-morning and boarded into the waiting SUVs. There were four Secret Service agents along with them. One drove and another was in the front passenger seat. Two more followed in the next car.
It wasn’t a long drive to the college football stadium in which the rally was being held. Just a half hour. Blane studied his notes on the way and Anne just watched out the window.
