Page 23 of Under Construction

There’s one new message.

So... no drinks really?

He stares at the screen. Thinks about his mother's knowing smile. About Chris's look during the meeting. About how something's shifting between them, whether he wants it to or not.

Maybe Chris isn’t such a bad guy after all?

Maybe they could even be friends?

Well, perhaps acquaintances.

Well…

Maybe colleagues who won’t kill each other.

His fingers hover over the keys.

After way too long and thinking much too hard, Dennis finally replies:

My father's lawyer is drafting a workplace harassment suit as we speak.

The response is immediate:Guess I better send more evidence for the case>:)

Despite everything—the family dinner, the rebellion, the exhaustion dragging at his bones—Dennis finds himself laughing, and then howling, and then hiccuping, curled up on the couch, arms around his stomach, tears of laughter streaming from his eyes.

Chris issoridiculous.

Gah, he really hates him!

10After Hours

Monday night finds the site office quiet, empty except for two people: one trying to work, the other determined to prevent it.

Dennis is still riding the high of the investor visit—they'd loved everything, praised his vision, called the project revolutionary. Even his father had looked almost impressed. It would have been perfect if not for...

"No," Dennis says firmly, not looking up from his tablet, trying very hard not to remember how Chris had spent the entire morning bending and stretching in that ridiculous excuse for a tank top, just because the investors were coming and Chris likes being difficult.

"But it was a success," Chris insists, leaning against the edge of the table, arms crossed on its surface and a barely restrained grin tugging at his mouth.

His work clothes are back to normal now, but Dennis can't unsee the way those muscles had gleamed under the morning sun, how his Versace briefs had peeked out every time he reached up to explain the bamboo supports.

"Investors loved it, you won over your father, and now they're calling you a 'visionary' and everything."

Dennis huffs, his lips twitching. "It’s still a no."

"Come on," Chris whines. Actually whines. "One drink. I got a six-pack in the fridge with your name on it. We deserve it—hell,youdeserve it, Mr. Visionary."

"I deserve to not have my site manager parading around half-naked during important meetings," Dennis mutters before he can stop himself.

Chris's grin widens. "Noticed that, did you?"

Dennis keeps his eyes trained on his tablet. Bites the inside of his cheek till it hurts to stop himself from smiling. "I have work."

"It's seven PM."

"Some of us care about this project."

"Says the guy who approved my time sheet for today even though I've been bugging him for two hours straight." Chris spins around, draping himself backward over the table's edge until his head dangles near Dennis’s tablet, grinning up at him upside down.

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