Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) Read Online Free PDF Page A

want to tell the man that I could get his car in top shape, but I couldn’t drive it, not anymore.
    Phil sang Randy’s praises to Mr. Cooke, distracting him from wondering why a guy like me wouldn’t jump at the chance to drive a bullet. I appreciated what he was doing and didn’t think twice about the envy most guys would feel about Randy getting behind the wheel of my work. Phil understood my dilemma and kept people off my back. He had been right there with me, which was why he couldn’t drive, either. A man who can’t move his legs has no use for a gas pedal and a foot brake.
    Randy ran inside to suit up. He wasn’t passing up the chance to get a car like this up to its top speed of two hundred and seventy miles per hour. I knew we wouldn’t hit it today. Our track was only two and a half miles. A longer track was needed for the top speed test.
    Two fifty-eight . Randy hit two hundred and fifty-eight miles per hour. Mr. Cooke, aka “Call me Craig” when he had a couple of pints in him, took us all out for a drink and proceeded to have his driver give me a bonus check of five thousand dollars as he was walking out the door. I had never received a tip, and I tried not to accept this one, but he refused to let me return it.
    “Guess you have some extra money for poker night,” Phil said as he patted me on the back. “Now all you need is some entertainment.” He nodded down the bar at the dark-haired girl eyeing me from the other side.
    I made eye contact and lifted my lip in some semblance of a smile. She’d do. The long dark hair, blue eyes, and leftover tan from the summer sun worked for her. Who cared if she looked like a stripper? It wasn’t like I was taking her home to meet my mother. I was willing to bet that dress that left almost nothing to the imagination would look even better on the floor. Before I could find out for sure, I had a poker game to attend.
    Poker night started at seven on the dot every Thursday night. I missed last week when the Venom showed up. I might have spent too many hours working on that car, but a beauty like that deserved the attention. This week Phil wouldn’t let me miss, and neither would his wife, Amy. She had already called me twice to make sure I was coming. I didn’t answer the third, fourth, and fifth time she called.
    Amy opened the door when she heard us pull up. “I bet Moretti twenty bucks you’d show. He owes me.”
    “And you owe me. Told you he’d bring somebody,” Phil called out.
    “Why does everyone bet on me? And do I even want to know what you won?” I asked as I helped Candy off the bike. I swear that was what she said her name was. I might not be good at many things, but I always make it a point to know my date’s name, no matter how little time we spend together.
    “Probably not,” Phil laughed as Amy shouted, “No!”
    Once we reached the front porch, I introduced Candy to Amy. Amy took one look at her and knew she was nothing special, but she never made any girl feel unwelcome. She liked to remind me that you never knew who would be the one.
    “Candy, why don’t you come help me get the food from the kitchen and let these boys talk for a minute.”
    “Okay. Sure.” Candy smiled and let go of my arm. Women always loved feeling welcome. Since Amy was the only female in our crew, she had the unfortunate role of being genuinely kind to the girls I brought over.
    “Seriously? She with you?” our high school friend, Jay, asked as we entered the house behind the girls.
    I shrugged. I didn’t know why they were surprised anymore. I could land a hot chick. They never had anything else going for them other than looks, but the guys acted like I struck gold every time I brought one with me.
    “She was watching Pretty Boy at the bar. He landed her with a nod of his head. The girl didn’t even hesitate to get on the back of his bike in that short dress.”
    “Lucky dog,” Moretti muttered.
    Ignoring them, I clapped my hands and rubbed them