Your presence on that bench had hijacked Roy’s mind for the past twenty minutes. Who’s mom were you? How old were you under those shades? Did you have a thing for single dads with emotional baggage and a complicated history?

"Focus on your daughter," he muttered to himself, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. Those rhinestone sunnies caught the light, the gloss on your lips drew his attention, and that cheetah print push-up bra peeking out from your top – Jesus, he was only human.

"Lian, honey, careful!" he called out automatically as his daughter attempted what looked like a new approach to the fireman’s pole. His voice carried across the playground, and you turned your head slightly in his direction.

"Talk to her," he coached himself, running fingers through his red hair that was definitely showing a few grays these days. "You've stared down supervillains, a beautiful woman at a playground shouldn't tie your tongue in knots."

You shifted position, crossing your legs, and he couldn't help but notice your boots. They were the expensive kind – all sleek leather and dangerous heels. The kind that could probably kill a man but make it look good.

"Daddy! Watch!"

"I'm watching, princess!" The response automatic, worn smooth by repetition. But something in him had reached a decision. He'd been alone too long, and there was something about the curve of your lips, like maybe you'd been watching him too when he wasn't looking.

Standing up, Roy brushed dirt from his jeans, mind racing through opening lines. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice..." No — screams stalker. "My daughter seems incredibly determined..." Better – it was kind of funny, established him as a dad right away, maybe would make you smile.

Taking a deep breath that did nothing, Roy started walking toward your bench. His palms sweating like a teenager asking someone to prom, not a grown man who'd literally saved the world. Behind him, Lian's squeal announced another failed attempt at bravery. At least one of them was having fun with this situation.