Rebate System: From Poor Student To Billionaire Playboy

Chapter 17. Driving Mrs Langston

Harry hadn’t planned to spend his evening playing chauffeur, but somehow, here he was again, behind the wheel, waiting on Clara. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about it, but since they’d already shared some awkward car time earlier that day, this trip didn’t feel as tense.

Apparently, her husband had passed along his number, which meant Clara could now contact him directly. A dangerous development, Harry thought. If this turned into a habit, he’d have to start screening calls. Still, he couldn’t really say no. After all, the man had let him slide on rent for months in the past.

The call came through around early evening, later than he’d expected, but Harry didn’t mind too much. He had plans later that night with Alicia, and honestly, a later dinner suited his agenda better. If the evening ran late enough, he could easily use the “it’s too late to go home” excuse to convince her to stay over.

But that was a problem for later. For now, he had a favor to fulfill.

When he pulled up in front of the house, the car immediately drew a few curious looks. It was a sleek, expensive machine, one that didn’t exactly blend into the area. Before he could even reach for his phone to text her, the front door opened, and Clara stepped out.

At least she was punctual, he thought. She hurried toward the car, and when she slid into the passenger seat, the faint scent of her soap filled the car, fresh, floral, and clean. Clearly, she’d just showered.

Harry couldn’t help but notice her outfit. Gone were the gym leggings and sports top from earlier; instead, she wore a simple black skirt that stopped just above her knees and a sleeveless white blouse. The neckline dipped slightly, showing just enough to be distracting. He forced his eyes back to the road, but when she adjusted her seat, her thighs pressed together, catching his peripheral vision.

Focus, he told himself.

“I really appreciate this,” Clara said, breaking the silence. “In just one day, you’ve done me two huge favors. I won’t forget this, Harry.”

He chuckled. “You make it sound like I just saved someone’s life.”

“I’m serious,” she replied warmly.

Her tone made it hard to stay annoyed. Harry wasn’t the type to get sentimental, but there was something about her voice, it had that calm maturity that could melt irritation into amusement.

Still, as he drove, his thoughts wandered elsewhere. He didn’t want to get too close to this family. Not because they’d done anything wrong, but because his own situation was… uncertain. He didn’t fully understand the system that had made him rich overnight. What if it disappeared? What if all the money vanished as quickly as it had come? The thought of losing everything again made him uneasy.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the veins along his forearms flexing as he changed lanes with one hand. Mrs. Langston noticed.

“You really know how to handle her,” she said, referring to the car, but her gaze lingered on his arms longer than it should have.

Harry smirked. “What can I say? I’ve got experience.”

She gave a small, knowing smile, one that went unnoticed as Harry kept his eyes forward. The car ride continued peacefully. She’d taken control of the radio, and it didn’t take long for Harry to realize she had great taste in music, mostly classic rock songs with smooth rhythms and confident lyrics.

She sang along to almost every song, and damn, her voice was something else. Soulful, powerful. He didn’t comment, but he definitely noticed.

“Come on, Harry, sing with me,” she said playfully when a familiar track came on.

He laughed. “I don’t think you want that. I’d hate to outshine you.”

“Oh, really?” she teased. “Let’s hear it, superstar.”

She was clearly joking, but Harry, maybe too relaxed for his own good, decided to humor her. He took a dramatic breath like he was about to perform live on stage.

Then he sang.

And immediately regretted it.

Whatever sound came out of his mouth wasn’t singing, it was somewhere between a dying cat and a haunted whistle. Clara froze for a split second before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. She doubled over in her seat, clutching her stomach as tears filled her eyes.

Harry started laughing too, shaking his head. “See? Told you I’d steal your spotlight, Mrs. Langston.”

She could barely get her words out between laughs. “Y-you sure did… Oh my God, that was awful.”

The laughter slowly subsided, leaving both of them smiling. Then, still catching her breath, she said, “You can call me Clara.”

The name rolled off her tongue softly, but it struck Harry in a weird way. Clara. Personal and familiar. The casual tone blurred a line he wasn’t sure he wanted to cross. But saying no would have felt unnatural, so he just nodded.

“Alright… Clara,” he said carefully.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that wasn’t awkward, just easy. It stayed that way for most of the drive, occasional small talk, a few laughs, and her humming quietly to whatever came on next.

By the time they reached the store, the sun had dipped below the horizon. The trip had taken longer than Harry expected.

“We’re here,” she said brightly.

Harry exhaled. “Finally.”

He parked and leaned back in his seat, stretching a little. “Alright, I’ll wait out here.”

Clara turned to him with raised brows. “Excuse me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“You’re not going to walk me in?” she asked, tilting her head slightly, lips curving into that teasing smirk again. “Be a gentleman, Harry.”

He stared at her for a moment, torn between amusement and disbelief. That look in her eyes, half challenge, half flirtation, made it impossible to say no.

“Fine,” he said with mock exasperation as he unbuckled his seatbelt.

She smiled triumphantly as he climbed out of the car.

And as they walked side by side toward the store, Harry couldn’t help but think, this woman was far more dangerous than she looked.