Reviews for Katherine McIntyre

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With the way this week had started out, Nico was two steps away from dousing the town in turpentine and tossing the match.

Crumpling the paper in his fist, he tried to suck in a deep breath. Not like it did much to calm the artillery fire in his chest. Fucking asshole.

He and Hudson West were going to have words. Some pithy, some sharp, and most of them unkind.

Harbor Pointe loomed in front of him, all beige walls and hunter-green shutters on the quaint historic house. Wide windows allowed plenty of natural light in, and the patio on the side of the restaurant was full of the high-end patrons this place attracted. Honestly, he couldn’t stand clientele like that, but while he’d love to say good riddance, he couldn’t afford to. Not when they swarmed during the summer and made up a lot of Chesapeake City’s business.

And right now, his pride and joy, Port of Call, needed any extra business it could get.

Nico sucked in a deep breath and slid his Ray Bans off, hanging them from the center of his V-neck. He preferred to avoid Harbor Pointe at all costs and rarely paid an in-person visit, but this… this warranted one. Hudson West had been trouble from the moment he rolled into town a little over a year ago and started a restaurant good enough to compete with Nico’s, and it didn’t look like he showed any signs of easing up.

Nerves. Settle them. Right.

He strode toward the side entrance of the restaurant, wanting to keep this confrontation as private as possible. No need for any onlookers; that would be bad for his own business. He balled his hands into fists and then flexed his fingers, rinse and repeat, as the crisp freshwater breezes wound around him, the picture-perfect view visible from the patio. The servers looked like they’d been plucked out of a country club in their white polos and dark slacks, which worked just peachy for the rich assholes who frequented the place, owner included.

Nico soaked in the pristine cloth napkins, hickory tables and chairs, and barely-there food against spotless white plates. Not for him in the slightest. He’d take his rowdy crowd of boozers at Port of Call any day. He ducked inside the restaurant, the slight chill of the air-conditioning prickling his skin. The lights were dim, gliding like gossamer over all the polished surfaces, since rich folks seemed to have an incessant need to view their own reflections. The paper in his hand was probably unreadable at this point from too many creases, but he’d brought it along to make a point, not be legible.

He skimmed through the room that preached quiet elegance, even with a fair number of patrons dining inside. The bar sparkled with glassware, the back lined by top-shelf liquors, and there, amid it all, stood the man he’d been searching for.

Hudson West was the epitome of preppy white boy with a square jaw, intense blue eyes, and thick, dirty-blond hair. Of course, the guy was built too, all well-defined arms, broad shoulders, and thighs that filled out his slacks far too well. Like Captain freaking America without any of the integrity. Fine, the man might also be stupidly hot, but even with Nico’s sloppy track record of one-night stands, he drew his line in the sand at pompous dickbags. And Hudson had proved to be a jackass from the first day they met.

Nico made his way forward, mentally daring Hudson to glance his way. He was sure the irritation in his look alone would rip the guy a new one.

Hudson’s gaze darted in his direction, those blue eyes darkening. Still, he didn’t bother to wave, nod, or acknowledge, just continued shaking and pouring an old-fashioned into the polished rocks glass. Basic politeness would be far too much of an effort. He handed the drink to a stiff-looking older guy sitting at the far end of the bar and returned to the center. Nico sucked in a breath and approached the bar, sliding onto the stool in front of Hudson.

Hudson arched a brow. “I’m assuming you’re not here for a drink?” His rich, low voice dripped arrogance, something Nico had marked about the man from the start.

Nico let out a snort. “Safe assumption. I like my martinis without the extra shot of condescension.”

Hudson rolled his eyes. “We all know you’re allergic to a little class, Shah.”

Nico’s jaw twitched. Asshole. “I’ll take personality over class.”

Chesapeake Days Series

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