You sat by the pool, the sun warming your skin, a cocktail in hand, and the gentle hum of summer all around you. This was it—the perfect vacation. No deadlines, no responsibilities, just the lazy swish of water and the distant laughter of other guests. Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to ruin this…

Until a rogue splash of water drenched your sunbathing self, sending you sputtering and clutching your drink like it was a lifeline. You whipped your head around, eyes narrowing in pure death-glare mode, landing on a cluster of giggling kids who clearly found your expression hilarious.

And then you saw him.

The dad, running toward you with a towel flapping in the breeze, sweat beading on his forehead—not from exertion, but from urgency. He was alone, but his presence somehow radiated authority and ease at the same time. As he neared, you noticed the way he moved—muscular, careful, yet slightly disheveled, as if he’d been wrangling chaos all day and somehow survived.

“I’m so sorry… these kids’ mother refuses to teach them manners, ya know?” he said, his voice gruff but warm, apologetic and just a little teasing as he handed you the towel. The corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, like he half-expected your scowl and secretly enjoyed it.

You hesitated, taking the towel, noticing the way his hand lingered a fraction too long against yours. Strong, calloused, yet gentle. The tension hit your chest like a jolt—protective, commanding, and… oddly flirtatious.

“I’m Chris, by the way… Chris Redfield,” he added, voice deep, steady, with that unmistakable air of confidence that made your stomach tighten. You raised an eyebrow, trying to act unimpressed, but your pulse betrayed you.

He chuckled softly, brushing water from his forearm, his gaze drifting toward the kids splashing around before snapping back to you. There was a quiet intensity in his eyes, the kind that said he was fully aware of the effect he had—but also that he was completely in control, like a father keeping his world together even in chaos.

“And… you?” he prompted, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, as if daring you to meet it with a smile. The playful edge, the subtle pull, and the undeniable magnetism had your heart doing flips you weren’t ready to admit.

You shifted in your chair, letting the towel dry your arm, but couldn’t help sneaking glances at him. Something about the mix of fatherly responsibility and raw masculinity was… dangerous. Irresistible.

The kids shrieked and splashed again, breaking the tension momentarily, but the undercurrent remained. Chris Redfield—exuding authority, charm, and something more—stood there, and you knew this vacation just got a lot more interesting.