Covering Kendall
Chapter One
* * *
DREW MCCOY DODGED pouring rain as he darted through a puddle-infested parking lot and into the entrance of the biggest bookstore in Bellevue. As he shook off the rain and jammed his hands into the pockets of his black North Face fleece jacket, he nodded at a familiar bookstore employee.
He spent enough time here that the staff knew who he was, despite the fact he always kept his long blond ponytail tucked out of sight beneath a slouchy knit hat. He didn’t mind because they kept a respectful distance, but he was occasionally recognized by another customer. It looked like his luck was about to run out.
As he passed the Women’s Fiction aisle he overheard a woman say to the employee he’d nodded at, “Wasn’t that Drew McCoy that just walked by? From the Sharks?”
Drew darted into Gardening/Home Improvement and braced himself to be exposed.
“That guy looks a lot like him, huh?” the employee said. “A football player probably doesn’t like to browse in the Women’s Fiction section of the store, though.”
“You’re right,” the woman said and laughed a little. “He’s probably not into books.”
He sighed with relief. Peeking around the end display, he saw the woman walk away in the opposite direction. He waited until she got in line at the checkstand and doubled back to find the store employee who’d misdirected her.
The employee glanced up from his work in surprise. Drew stuck out his hand. The guy shook it. He wore a nametag: CRAIG. Drew would be stopping by next week with autographed team merchandise for him.
“Thanks, man,” Drew said.
“Anytime.” The guy grinned at him. “Go Sharks.”
Drew continued on to the history section. A free-standing sign caught his eye, and he paused to take a closer look. Carl Sagan’s latest biographer would be speaking in fifteen minutes about his new book on the famed astronomer.
Drew had a couple of hours before he needed to get his ass home and get ready for this weekend’s Sharks game. He’d enjoy listening to what the guy had to say, and he could grab a couple of books on his way out the door too. He glanced around to see a few rows of empty chairs in front of a lectern. Another bookstore employee was unpacking books to stack on a table for the author to sign.
A deserted book signing: bad for the author, but great for Drew. He could geek out to his heart’s content in anonymity. He loved what he did. He loved the Sharks’ fans. He didn’t love the inability to move freely in public, however. He relished any situation in which he was just another bookworm.
He threaded his way into the middle row of chairs. There was plenty of room to spread out, so he sat down mid-aisle. The front row was too conspicuous. The back row was for those who wanted to catch a nap. He hoped the author didn’t mind a few questions from the audience, either.
The only way things could be more perfect for Drew at that moment was if the bookstore sold beer on tap.
KENDALL TRACY STOOD in the parking lot of the bookstore wrestling with an umbrella blown inside-out as the heavens opened up. She’d been sitting in meetings all day. Stepping out of a warm, dry hotel conference room into a ferocious rainstorm wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. She attempted to pull the umbrella back into working shape while she clutched the hood she wore with her other hand. Needless to say, she was getting smacked in the face with rain and wind, and the umbrella was unsalvageable.
She wasn’t used to torrential downpours accompanied by strong winds. The weather was perfect when she flew out of San Francisco last night. It might get a little windy at times, but she’d be more likely to don additional layers than get soaked there. She’d been heading to a restaurant a few doors down for a glass of wine, but now she reversed course. A bookstore would be a great place to wait until the storm let up a bit.
She dropped the ruined umbrella next to the front door of the bookstore and found herself propelled through the entrance by a gust of wind. A few other people followed her inside. They milled around the tables stacked with books, crowded aisles, and a few hurried into the attached Starbucks to warm up. She had a digital reader, but it might be nice to find something new to read while she curled up in yet another hotel bed for the night.
She was in Seattle on business a few times a year with her employers, the San Francisco Miners. The football team and front office personnel typically stayed closer to the airport, but she was happy for the opportunity to get out and walk a little. She would have been flat-out thrilled if the weather cooperated. Despite the storm, she was safe, indoors, and there were plenty of books available. She hurried over to the Women’s Fiction section but halted mid-aisle at a free-standing sign.