Page 125 of Diary of a Biker Queen

“Amber! We should go!” Herb shouted.

I shook my head stubbornly. “It’s fine! It’ll settle! I don’t want to lose our spot!”

The music cut out with a crackle of static. The dirt was so thick in the air I couldn’t even open my eyes to see why. There was no announcement, but people around us pushed into me as they tried to leave the area and escape the dust.

I sucked in a breath, and then coughed up a lung full of dust.

Herb grabbed my arm. “We’re leaving, Amber! This is fucking dangerous!”

Annoyance prickled up my spine, and even though I knew it was the PMS talking and I was being ridiculous, I dug my heels in. “I’m not leaving until they say the band isn’t coming back out!”

I managed to open my eyes just enough to see Herb staring at me like I’d grown a second head.

I tried to glare at him, but it was hard to do when you could barely see or breathe through the dust. I coughed and squeezed my eyes shut, holding my ground.

Herb picked me right up off it.

He slung me over his shoulder like I was a sack of potatoes, wrapping one thick arm across the backs of my thighs, stopping me from slipping the whole way down his back.

I pummeled my fist against him. “Herb! Put me down!”

“Not until I find somewhere safe for us to ride this thing out.”

“You’re stoned! You’re going to drop me!”

His grip tightened across the backs of my legs. “No, Amber. I won’t.”

There was something in his voice I hadn’t heard before. A deep, possessive, in-control tone that instantly had me quieting.

Who knew Herb could sound like that?

By that point, with my lungs full of dust, I unfortunately realized he was right. The low visibility made it hard to see, but Herb seemed to know exactly where he was going. I eventually gave in, and let him carry me away, caveman-style.

I didn’t know how he was managing. I spluttered, my arms covering my face in an attempt to breathe through the dust that whipped around us, little rocks flying up to pummel our skin.

And yet Herb marched on like a soldier going into battle and completely unfazed by the whole thing.

Maybe his lungs were just used to breathing in particle filled air.

Meanwhile, I was being very dramatic and was fairly sure I was dying. It felt like a lifetime before there was the noise of a zipper, and Herb lowered me back down to the ground, pushing me into a tent ahead of him.

I looked around at the small space, and was surprised by a neatly made air mattress and a couple of bottles of water that sat beside it. I pounced on one gratefully, and downed it, before using more of it and a box of tissues to try to wipe the worst of the dirt off my skin.

I didn’t want to think about why Herb had a box of tissues next to his bed. I really hoped he had allergies.

Herb did the same, sitting beside me and wiping the dirt out of his beard and off his cheeks as best he could.

I folded my legs beneath me. “I didn’t expect your tent to be nice on the inside. I can’t believe you actually brought sheets and pillows.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged while the wind howled around outside, and the tent flapped in protest. “You seem more like the type to just sleep in your clothes on the ground, honestly.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know anything about me, Amber.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I do. I know you’re a prospect at the club. And that you really like weed.”

He looked over at me, unimpressed. “Weak. Everyone knows those things.”