Her Secret Service (Jane Roe 1) by Jason Letts (sites to read books for free TXT) 📗

and it only made her more curious why he cared for her to be there at all. It couldn’t all be some kind of nostalgic attempt to recreate his old riding routines.

“This looks amazing,” she said when she saw the spread on the table. “I know better than to be surprised, but it’s still impressive.”

Stacks of waffles and pancakes, enough fruit to fill a grocer’s aisle, and a big jug of Vermont maple syrup. And somehow through no work of her own it was something she got to share in. If only for a little while, she was going to have to find a way to not just enjoy the amazing food but enjoy herself and the minuscule time she had with someone who fascinated and puzzled her.

“Yeah, the chefs do an amazing job. Everything they make is an art form.”

It was easier to feel more like she was returning to her senses once she’d sunk her teeth into a thick Belgian waffle covered in syrup and strawberry compote.

“It’ll be hard not to stuff myself so full that I’ll need to go for another ride,” she said, drawing a grin from Alex, who had already inhaled an entire waffle.

“You’re starting to sound like a real cyclist. If only you hadn’t spent so much time running,” he said.

Jane glanced upward as she pondered that one.

“I can’t regret my time running though. Feeling your feet on the pavement, being running on trails between the trees and up hills. Still, I get the appeal of riding and there are certainly some benefits with less gravity involved.”

“Oh yeah, like what?”

Jane looked askew.

“Well, it’s nice to have a little less bounce in your step,” she said, trying not to sound too suggestive about it, but the look in his eye as he glanced below her line of sight meant her reference had apparently been too good to resist. He downed half a glass of orange juice.

“You know, I was tempted to spend that flight to Dayton in the plane’s gym on one of the bikes there. I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t,” he said, but his smile faltered, and Jane could practically see the memories of the bombing and the emergency landing coming back into his mind.

“I’m just glad no one was hurt.”

“Me too,” Alex said. “Are they any closer to finding out who did it?”

Jane sighed, wondering if this would turn into a work meeting after all.

“I haven’t heard anything yet, but I know they’re working as hard as they can on it. You must be pretty shaken up about it,” she said.

Alex leaned back in his chair, putting a finger over his chin before leaning back toward her.

“Are you familiar with John Milton at all? He’s the poet and philosopher from the 17th century most famous for writing Paradise Lost. He spent his life studying all manner of things, and I heard a story once that he was the last person regarded to have known everything there was to know at his time. Can you imagine absorbing the combined knowledge of everything that came before you?

“That’s what bothers me about these attacks and all of the threats. I think if these people knew any more about me, they’d see that I’m not a mastermind or architect of the world who has that kind of knowledge worth attacking. Sometimes I feel like I’m trying to figure it out each day just like everybody else, and that can mean mistakes happen, bad judgment strikes, or despite all the power of the presidency things can happen that I really have no control over,” he said.

Jane found herself watching him as he spoke. It got her attention, showing some vulnerability she wouldn’t have ever imagined was there. Most of the time Alex acted just like he did when he was being recorded in public or speaking to a crowd, but little moments of humanity were seeping in that showed her that he had a reflective side.

“What they’re trying to attack is the authority figure of the presidency,” Jane said, but she immediately regretted it. He’d tried to expose something he was worried about, and she’d papered it over with work talk.

“Oh, I know that…”

“But I understand what you mean,” Jane said, looking straight into his eyes. “We build up these ideas of maintaining control, but none of us has any control in a real sense. I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear from someone in charge of your Secret Service detail, but it’s the truth, and the sooner we all recognize that the better off we’ll be. Sometimes our best intentions and fervent effort are all we have to go on, and the rest is out of our hands.”

Alex nodded solemnly, his hand returning to his chin in a way that wasn’t too different than the famous Thinker statue.

“I keep going back to JFK. The Secret Service recommended that two agents ride on the back of his vehicle as he cruised through Dallas, but he refused them because he thought it would look strange having people hanging onto the back of the car. Six seconds passed between when the first shot was fired and the one that struck him. He almost certainly would’ve lived if those agents had been there.

“The point is that I have to take just as much responsibility for my safety as you do. And I’m not at all put off by you acknowledging that there’s no way to remain perfectly safe at all times with the constant stream of threats. Maybe I should be giving the people more credit as well. There are times when I feel like I know exactly what I need to do and times when visibly showing that I’m weighing conflicting pieces of information might not be a bad thing.”

Alex turned his head to look out over the verdant landscape around them.

“I think many people would appreciate that,” she said, and he turned back to her with a scrutinizing look.

“And what would you think?”

Suddenly flustered