“He giving you trouble, Mads?” the heavily tatted one asked, puffing out his chest as two more guys in black leather vests with enough ink on their skin to fill a novel strode over with icy stares.

Fuck.

Tobias readied for a fight, muscles flexing, feet shifting, mentally choreographing how it would play out. He was no stranger to unfair fights, no matter how he tried to avoid them. He’d take a few hits, but he’d pummel them in the process, taking at least two down with him. Memories impaled him—the crack of bones against his knuckles, the thud of his best friend landing on the floor, and the agonizing hell that had followed. Clenching his jaw tighter, he unfurled his fists. He was not doing this. Not tonight. Not ever again.

Tobias held his hands up. “Nah, man. I was just leaving.” He reached for his helmet and turned to leave, but the two latecomers blocked his way.

“Mads? What’d he do?” the tallest one seethed.

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t need your protection, Blaine. He didn’t do anything. He just didn’t like my performance.”

“No shit?” another asked, eyeing Tobias. “Why not? Mads is a killer storyteller, and she’s my songwriting partner, so if you got a beef with her, you’re gonna have to deal with me.”

“Just let it go, Zander.” She pushed past them, stalking toward the table where the cute brunette who had cheered her on was sitting.

“Stay away from our sister, or we’re going to have trouble,” the guy she’d called Blaine ordered, and motioned for the other guys to step aside.

“Boys,” Ginger warned. “Leave that man alone. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

Tobias appreciated her support, but Blaine was right. That blue-eyed firecracker was exactly the kind of trouble he’d like to get into, which was why he headed for the door.

MADIGAN THREW HERSELF into a chair beside Marly Bowers, one of her besties, watching the broody bastard stalk out the door. “Can this day get any crappier? This morning my Vespa started acting funny, then a kid threw up at my puppeteering gig, and I stopped for coffee on the way here, only to spill it all over myself. I had to run home and change, which is why I was late, and now I have to scratch that hottie off my fantasy list. It’s a shame, too, because he’s even hotter up close, and he’s got that gruff, gravelly voice that you know sounds freaking hot in the dark. I could really use some of that in my fantasies.”

“In real life too, Mads. It’s not like you’ve been dating much since you moved back to the Cape.”