Page 23 of Hooked on Mack
14
Mack
As I sat across from Larissa in the Mexican restaurant, my head was wrapping around the fact that The Kennsington family was a chaotic mess, like a tornado that had crashed into an erupting volcano. And now, here we were, two lawyers caught in the eye of the storm. Ava's determination to take everything Mark had, coupled with his unfaithfulness, made this divorce case a ticking time bomb.
“Have you ever seen a situation so impossible?” I asked, swirling my margarita around in its glass.
“Only when I try to find matching socks in my laundry,” Larissa replied. It was moments like these that I found myself drawn to her even more.
“Careful, Montgomery, I might just start believing you have a sense of humor,” I teased as I took a bite of my enchilada.
“If I didn't have a sense of humor, I would've run for the hills by now.” Her laughter was contagious, and soon we were both laughing, our worries momentarily forgotten. We were walking a fine line, balancing our personal desires against our professional responsibilities.
“Another round of margaritas?” I suggested, trying to distract myself from the intensity of her gaze.
“Only if you promise not to get too tipsy.”
“Deal,” I said, signaling the waiter.
“Mack,” she said, her voice suddenly serious. “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we weren't on opposite sides?”
“Of the courtroom or the restaurant table?” I asked jokingly, but my heart started to race at the thought.
“Both.”
“Truthfully? Yes, I do.” Admitting it out loud felt both terrifying and freeing. “But we have a job to do, and as much as I'd love to see where this could lead, our clients need us to be focused for one more night.”
“Agreed.” Larissa sighed, her eyes drifting down to her plate. “I just wish things could be different. Let's promise each other that once this case is over, we'll figure things out.”
“Promise.”
We needed a moment to unwind, to enjoy each other's company without thinking about the Kennsington case.
“Did I ever tell you that Mexican food is my favorite?”
“Really? I would have pegged you as more of a pizza guy,” she teased, flashing me a playful smirk.
“Guilty as charged,” I admitted, chuckling. “But there's just something about the combination of flavors and spices in Mexican cuisine that I can't resist.”
“Same here,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “I love experimenting with different dishes at home, too. Cooking has always been a stress reliever for me.”
“Seriously? Me too!” I exclaimed, genuinely surprised. “What's your specialty?”
“Enchiladas verdes. My grandmother taught me how to make them when I was a kid,” she replied, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.
“Nice! I'll have to try your enchiladas sometime. I make a mean chile relleno myself.”
“Challenge accepted,” she said with a smile, raising her margarita glass in toast. “To good food and great company.”
“Cheers.”
Our conversation moved beyond food, and I found out just how much we had in common—from our dedication to justice to our passion for helping others.
“Mack, I never thought I'd meet someone who understands me.”
“Likewise,” I replied, my heart swelling with affection for this incredible woman. “You know, sometimes I think that if we put our heads together, we could change the world.”
“Or at least the legal system,” she joked, but there was a seriousness in her eyes that told me she believed it too.
