Chapter Three Maren #2
Her fingers tightened around her phone.
Griffin noticed.
Of course he did.
“Too much?” he asked quietly.
The question surprised her.
So did the fact that it was not judgmental.
Maren looked at him, ready with a joke. Something easy. Something sharp enough to keep him from seeing the truth.
But Griffin’s expression had shifted.
Still serious. Still controlled. But not dismissive.
Attentive.
Like he was not asking whether the content was too much.
Like he was asking whether it was too much for her.
That was worse.
People did not usually ask Maren that.
They asked if she could make things prettier. Funnier. Faster. More exciting. They asked if she could turn a boring announcement into something cute, if she could get everyone smiling, if she could handle the social stuff since she was naturally good at it.
They did not ask if the room had become heavy.
She smiled.
Of course she smiled.
“That sounded dangerously close to concern.”
His jaw flexed. “It was a logistical check.”
“Logistical concern. Hot.”
His eyes sharpened.
Maren immediately regretted the word hot.
Not because it was inaccurate.
Because it was accurate enough to change the air.
Tyler, mercifully or tragically, chose that moment to shout, “Next bad idea!”
The lawn cheered.
Maren turned away too fast.
Griffin let her.
That was kind.
Annoying.
But kind.
Tyler lifted a bright orange card. “Challenge: Griffin and Maren must compete in the blindfolded snack shack taste test.”
Ava froze mid-step. “Absolutely not.”
Everyone looked at her.
She pointed at the snack shack window. “Nobody disrespects my fries for content.”
Nate nodded solemnly. “House rule.”
Tyler frowned at the card. “Okay, rejected on culinary grounds.”
Griffin looked pleased. “Excellent.”
Maren took the next card from the bucket. “Challenge: Griffin has to let Maren teach him one TikTok dance.”
The lawn screamed.
Griffin looked like someone had handed him a snake.
“No.”
“Safe,” Maren said.
“No.”
“Team-focused.”
“No.”
“Visual.”
“Deeply no.”
Beckett clapped. “I volunteer as choreographer.”
“That makes it worse,” Griffin said.
Maren tilted her head. “Afraid?”
Griffin’s eyes cut to hers.
There.
That worked too well.
She tucked the knowledge away for professional reasons. Definitely professional.
“I am not afraid of dancing,” he said.
“Great.”
“I am opposed to public suffering.”
“That is just dancing with branding.”
He leaned slightly closer. “I am not doing a dance.”
Her pulse jumped.
“Good,” she said, because apparently self-preservation had left the premises. “I prefer a man who knows his limits.”
His eyes held hers.
“Do you?”
The question was low enough that the lawn noise almost swallowed it.
Almost.
Maren felt it land somewhere below her ribs.
Do you?
Not about dancing.
She knew it. He knew she knew it.
Her mouth went dry.
Well.
That was inconvenient.
Before she could answer, Nate called, “Hayes! Brooks! Pick one before Tyler starts inventing categories.”
“Too late,” Tyler called back. “I now have aquatic, emotional, athletic, romantic, and crimes against dignity.”
Cooper raised his hand. “I submit a category called not happening.”
“Denied.”
Griffin stepped back, and the moment snapped.
Maren inhaled carefully.
She hated that she needed to.
She looked at the bucket. “Fine. We need something safe, public, funny, and not boring.”
“Correct,” Griffin said.
“Something you will actually do.”
“Within reason.”
“Something that proves you do not fear joy.”
“I am not proving that.”
“The internet disagrees.”
“The internet once believed Tyler should be allowed to narrate warmups.”
Tyler looked offended. “The people crave my voice.”
“They crave chaos,” Griffin said.
Maren snapped her fingers. “Exactly.”
Griffin looked at her with suspicion. “Why did that sound like a bad thing for me?”
“Because your instincts are improving.”
She turned to the crowd and raised her voice. “Opening Night Bad Idea Bet challenge is officially…”
She paused.
Drama mattered.
Beckett nodded approval like a theater coach.
Maren scanned the lawn, the dock, the string lights, the beach games, the snack shack window where Ava was watching with narrowed eyes in case fries became involved.
Then she saw it.
Near the main path, someone had set up the old Lake Briar photo booth.
Not a real booth. More like a painted wooden frame with silly props, a tripod light, and a backdrop of the lake.
It had been used for family pictures during summer festivals for years.
Tonight, it sat mostly ignored, except for a few kids wearing oversized sunglasses and posing with inflatable fish.
Maren smiled.
Perfect.
“Photo booth,” she announced.
Griffin’s expression stayed guarded. “Explain.”
“You and I take one official Bad Idea Bet promo photo.”
The lawn murmured.
Tyler looked disappointed. “That is not very bad.”
“Wait for it,” Maren said. “The team picks the props. The internet picks the pose.”
Beckett rose slowly. “I have waited my whole life for this moment.”
Griffin shook his head. “No.”
“It is safe.”
“No.”
“Public.”
“No.”
“Great content.”
“No.”
“Not physically dangerous.”
“No.”
Maren turned toward him. “You promised to approve one.”
“I promised to approve one within boundaries.”
“This has boundaries. Wooden ones. Around the photo booth.”
“That is not what boundaries mean.”
“It is if you believe in set design.”
Nate walked over, grinning. “I approve.”