Rachel answered honestly, “It’s good. I’ve been here before.”

“Oh, that’s great. Don’t say I’m taking advantage of you. I’m actually being pretty fair,” Tyler replied before he closed the car door and walked up beside Rachel. He yawned as he did so.

Rachel felt like every time she saw Tyler, he always looked half-asleep, like he’d just rolled out of bed. But at the office, he was cold and unapproachable, like a completely different person.

They picked a window seat and sat down. Rachel glanced at Tyler in his tailored suit, which was clearly high-end and probably custom-made. Sitting in a place like this, filled with the smells and grease of street food, he really looked out of place.

Tyler scanned the place, and Rachel could tell he was unimpressed. A place like this was always full of smoke and oil. The tables were sticky with grease, and business was so good the owners clearly didn’t have time to keep things spotless.

She hesitated for a moment and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere else? Somewhere you usually eat?”

“No gas left in the car. We can’t go far. Let’s just stay here,” Tyler said as he grabbed a stack of napkins and started wiping down the table.

He wiped it down thoroughly, using all the napkins, and tossed everything in the trash. Even though the table was practically shining at that point, it still didn’t feel clean enough for him.

Rachel couldn’t help but ask, “Mr. Hunt, are you sure no one forced you to come here?”

Tyler paused mid-motion, as if just realizing how over-the-top he was being. Even the restaurant owner was eyeing him strangely. Finally, he stopped and sat down.

Rachel gave the owner an awkward smile. “Sorry, my friend here has a bit of a cleanliness issue.”

The owner sighed, “Miss, we’re just running a small business. This is the best we can manage.”

Rachel quickly said, “Don’t worry, we’ll pay for the napkins too.”

Only then did the owner drop the matter.

Tyler scoffed. “A stack of napkins? That guy needs to think bigger.”

“Keep your voice down,” Rachel whispered. “He’s just trying to get by. Not everyone lives like you, throwing money around.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Do I throw money around?”

Rachel took a sip of water. “Do I need to spell it out? Those handmade leather shoes you’re wearing probably cost more than this whole restaurant.”

“Two restaurants,” Tyler corrected casually.

“Pfft.” Rachel choked on her water and ended up spitting some of it out.

Before she could even look up, Tyler had already reacted, grabbing a plate from the table to shield himself.

Rachel clutched her chest and coughed a few times. “Sorry, that was a little ungraceful.”

“Next time, talk like a normal person. Don’t start a rainstorm mid-meal,” Tyler said dryly as he set the plate down and dabbed at his clothes with a napkin. His movements were unhurried and refined. There wasn’t a trace of panic.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Rachel quickly wiped her mouth. She was now convinced that Tyler really did have a touch of OCD. She’d heard him mention it to Yvette back at the Lloyd residence. A man who used an entire stack of napkins to clean one table obviously wasn’t someone who could tolerate someone accidentally spitting water on him.

“Why don’t you take off your jacket? I’ll take it home, wash it, and return it to you,” she offered.

“Alright.” Tyler didn’t hesitate at all. He shrugged off the jacket and handed it to her immediately.