Page 4 of July's Bad Boy: Blaze
Maybe this isn't going to be the vacation from hell. Maybe it's exactly what I need.
Not that I'd admit that to anyone. Especially not to Grace Hartman.
CHAPTER 2
GRACE
I don't have time for egos or incompetence. We have two weeks of food, max. That's the thought running through my head as I direct volunteers at the crash site for day two of the cleanup, clipboard in hand, trying to maintain some semblance of order in this chaos.
The supply truck for the Merc was supposed to be here later today. Now it won't be able to get through. The concrete has dried all over the road with wood, nails, screws, and bolts, making it almost impossible to even walk over, much less drive over. There is no way of going around it, either, with steep mountain banks on both sides.
"Careful with that!" I call out as two teenage boys nearly drop a pile of metal debris. "Set it in the designated area, please."
The concrete landslide took out not just the road, but also the delivery truck with construction materials. Lumber is scattered across a quarter mile of destruction. We've managed to salvage about sixty percent of it, but the rest is buried in the concrete or went over the edge of the mountain.
In the back of my head, I'm calculating what the town has and how we will get by. They are saying the road will take a week or two to open. Based on supplies this morning, assuming no one panics, we can go at least a week, but not much longer. I wish there was a way to calculate what everyone already has in their homes.
The Senior Living residents need their medications. There is a single mom who has three kids under ten, and there are a few newborns in town as well. Everyone's counting on me to figure this out.
"Hey, Grace!" Shane waves from across the site. "I've got someone who can help."
And there he is. Blaze Whatever, trailing behind Shane like a lost puppy with designer boots. He's changed into jeans and a flannel shirt that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage payment, but still looks like he stepped out of a fashion magazine's “rugged outdoorsman” spread.
Just what we need. A rock star with callouses on his soul, not his hands.
"Great," I say, not meaning it. "Put him on debris clearing."
Shane grins. "He's stronger than he looks."
"I'm right here," Blaze says, raising an eyebrow. "And I can hear you."
I hand him a pair of work gloves. "Congratulations on having functioning ears. Now make yourself useful and start loading up that green pickup over there."
He takes the gloves without complaint, which is mildly surprising. "Yes, ma'am."
"Don't call me ma'am," I snap, already turning away to check another group of volunteers.
“Maybe be a bit nicer to him. The town can use his PR, you know?” My best friend Olivia says before handing me a water, her way of making sure I stay hydrated.
For the next hour, I coordinate volunteers, document damages, and try not to think about how this disaster is freezing my entire business. No road means no deliveries. No deliveries mean no income. No income means... I push the thought away. One crisis at a time.
When I glance over at rock-clearing duty, I'm annoyed to see Blaze chatting with Jenna, who should be taking her break and resting in the shade instead of swooning over some celebrity. He's smiling and nodding as she talks. At least he's moved a decent pile of rocks.
By noon, we've done all we can at the site. The county emergency response team has finally arrived to assess the damage, so I gather my volunteers.
"Great work, everyone. The road crew will take it from here. Remember the town meeting tonight at seven."
As people disperse, I catch Shane looking at me expectantly, Blaze at his side.
"What?" I ask.
"Blaze here worked hard," Shane says pointedly.
I sigh. "Thank you for your help, Mr. Celebrity."
"It's Nelson," he says. "Blaze Nelson."
"Right." I check my watch. "I need to get back to town. Some of us have actual jobs to figure out."
