The Nymph's Curse: The Collection by Danica Winters Page B

smiled. “Yes. You don’t want the ones they give the tourists.”
    She didn’t need to say more. “Why’d she treat you like you’re royalty?”
    Just then, the waitress came back with two sparkling glasses filled to the lip with the clear ouzo. Setting down napkins, she gently placed the full glasses in front of them with a tiny bow. “These’re on the house.”
    Ariadne nodded. As the woman turned, Beau noticed a small tattoo of a mouse on the woman’s ankle. In a way, it was comical, a tiny little mouse on such a brusque woman. He looked over at Ariadne’s arm, but the snake was covered — it was odd to be around two people with tattoos that in no way seemed to epitomize their personalities.
    People were strange.
    The man with the wide nose stared at him. Beau poured the ouzo into his mouth, and it was like a fire as it rippled down his throat. He held back the urge to cough.
    The barkeep stomped over to the group of men at the other table, grabbed the empties and clanked them together. Turning away from the table, the man with an eye-patch slapped her on the ass and laughed. “You busy later?”
    Beau pushed his chair away from the table, and began to rise, but Ariadne grabbed his hand and shook her head. The barkeeper laughed tiredly, as if the physical contact was nothing new, but it infuriated him. Even the tough-looking barkeep deserved a little respect.
    Ariadne pushed his drink toward him and he slammed it back, banging it on the table as he brought it down.
    Ariadne leaned toward him. “There’s nothing you can do. Besides, she’s tougher than she looks, the men won’t get away with anything more.”
    The woman brought a bottle to the table and refilled Beau’s glass. She wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Was her aversion out of embarrassment or shame for the way the men had treated her?
    His anger rose as he looked over at the men and noticed that the five of them were all glaring in their direction. “Assholes,” he muttered.
    “What was that?” the broad-nosed man said in a dangerous voice.
    Beau forced himself to remain sitting, but he wanted to punch the ugly guy in the face. “I said
treat the woman with a little respect
.” He could only control one thing, his body or his tongue, and the tongue lost.
    The lackeys turned and stared at the broad-nosed man as his eyes drew into angry slits. “You stupid Americans. You think you can come in here and tell me how to act?”
    Beau couldn’t stop himself. “Being American has nothing to do with knowing how to treat a woman.”
    Ariadne grasped his hand and squeezed. “Stop,” she whispered.
    She was right. It was unwise to act out with so many against him. He might be able to take one, but five was outside of his range of ability. When the site opened back up, he would need both his hands, and his ass. Damn his mouth.
    The man’s chair scraped on the floor as he stood up. He motioned for his friends to stay and he strode confidently to the edge of their table. He pressed his face close to Beau.
    Beau could smell the scent of cheap liquor and the pungent odor of fish as it permeated from the man.
    “Here in Crete, we don’t appreciate your kind. You academics come here and bring in your unchecked little students. You steal our treasures and destroy our culture with your Western ways.”
    Beau stared at the man. “You have it all wrong. I’m trying to save your culture, not destroy it.”
    “That’s why you come here and take our jobs, leaving us to find work off the island, or fish. You know what it’s like to rely on fish for a living?” The man drove his finger into Beau’s chest. “No … you don’t have a clue.”
    Beau forced the man’s finger from his chest. “If you think I’m getting rich by looking in the dirt for artifacts, you’re dead wrong.”
    “Boys,” the barkeeper said, stepping between them. “If you want to fight, take it outside.”
    The man glared at him. Turning, he walked back to his table as he