Page 32 of Surrender to Me

Chapter 20

Bobby smacked the countertop. “My, my, if it isn’t our favorite customer, Mr. Lowell!” he said.

“Stop calling him Mr. Lowell, Bobby,” Clay corrected. My lucky roommate wasn’t working and had stopped by for fun. He put his hand around Misty. “He’s not a god.”

Owen tipped an imaginary hat. “Please call me Owen,” he said.

Bobby chuckled. “It feels weird, man. You’re the Owen Lowell. And I’m just a humble cafe owner—”

“A very successful cafe owner. I simply have a very public reputation.”

I blushed, thinking of rules we had once had to avoid the dramatic publicity Owen had grown to hate over the years. He walked to my side of the counter by the espresso machines and ordered a vanilla latte.

“I never would’ve thought you would like something so sweet,” I said, smirking.

“I never would’ve either,” he said, his eyes twinkling like there was a joke behind what he said. Was he referring to me? Sweet? I shook my head and stuffed the group head with fine grounds. I knew he was watching me, waiting for me to say what had happened, but I kept making his latte like I didn’t notice, like he was any other customer. The fluttering of his eyes, watching me move back and forth, let on that the silence was driving him crazy. I liked teasing him. Maybe it would be even better to tease him like this in the bedroom that night...

“So?” he finally asked.

I swirled the vanilla syrup at the bottom of his cup. “So?”

“Riley Jane Glass,” he growled. “Do you want me to punish you?”

I smiled. “That depends, Mr. Lowell. If you’ll be using your fine instruments, perhaps. But I have something better in mind.”

“Oh?”

“I want to tie you up,” I said quietly, barely audible over the noise of the cafe. I didn’t actually want to, but I wanted to see what he would say. Owen chuckled.

“In your dreams,” Owen said.

“No fair,” I pouted. I sighed. “Well. I guess you’ll never—”

“The cane then,” he said.

I almost gasped. That thing hurt like being slapped with bristly toilet brush against cold skin, only worse. “I’m playing,” I said.

“As am I.” He grinned. “Or am I?”

I guess getting caned was playing in a way. “They revoked my scholarship,” I said.

He waited a minute, giving me a chance to add an explanation. But I didn’t. “How do you feel about it?” he asked.

I shrugged. I poured the espresso into his cup, then steamed the milk. “I knew it was coming. But—” I looked around, seeing that Bobby was now in an arm wrestling match with Clay, and was sadly losing. The regular customers were cheering the two of them on like it was a true wrestling match. “It’s too much drama. Nobody wants to deal with it.” Shouting interrupted us, and we both looked over. Clay had won, and Bobby was demanding a rematch. “Poppy was there.”

“She and Stevens are dating,” he said.

“How do you feel about that?” I asked, repeating his question.

“I don’t,” he said. He locked eyes with me, emeralds glimmering in that way that told me to listen closely. “She’s my past, not my future.”

I blushed, speechless at what he was implying. It took me a minute to regain my senses. “She implied that she had something to do with it,” I said.

“She’s vindictive,” he agreed.

“I didn’t do anything to her.”

“In her eyes, you did,” he said. “I’m yours.”