When he was fifteen, Rhett's father had caught making out with Leslie Lyles, the prettiest girl in his grade. The older man hadn't interrupted them, had even spent the rest of that evening pretending to have seen nothing, but later that night the man had drug them both out onto the porch swing to sit in the muggy early evening air.

[i]The porch swing had creaked as they'd rocked silently, companionably. His father was nursing a beer slowly, savouring the amber liquid without letting it go to his head, and Rhett was content with a giant glass of Coke. He'd been chasing the ice cubes around with a straw, listening to them clink against the glass, when his father had finally spoken.

"So...I guess there's no point in askin' if you're lookin' at girls yet?"

Rhett knew his face must almost glow in the dark. "Dad, I--"

"Son, your mother and I were eighteen when we had Clyde. I know all about what drives men and women, 'specially when you finally start seein' one another. Now, I ain't got a problem with you kissing and holdin' hands. Not my place anyhow, and I know tellin' you to stop'll only make it worse. But I do think you're old enough now that we gotta talk about how you treat a woman.

His veins had gone ice cold. "Oh God, Dad, I don't need the Talk--"

But Sawyer Connors was already shaking his head. "Your mama will handle that. This is more serious. Now, I ain't gonna sit here and tell you that women are weak are helpless. Your mother and Tallullah would kill me six ways from Sunday. But I am going to tell you this, and you best remember it all your life. You treat a woman like she's something special. You respect her, you love her, and you do right by her. She'll be your better half, and don't you ever forget it. You don't drink to excess around her, you don't swear around her, and you give her the home she deserves. And if I ever catch you raising your hand to a woman in anger, I will kill you dead. You hear me?" [/i]

The conversation flashed through Rhett's mind in a heartbeat. He and his father had never spoken about women again, and Sawyer had been taken by a work accident only three months after that conversation. But it was one that he would never forget, especially as he watched the men and women he had graduated with marry, reproduce, and divorce around him. Violence in the home was rare-or at least, rare that it was spoken of-, but there was enough fighting and sadness amongst his friends that Rhett wondered if his father hadn't been dead right on all his advice.

Now, though, this woman was sitting in front of him. Hadn't met his eyes once, spoke like a damn college textbook, all whole words and proper endings, and was sporting what could only be the sign of a strong grip on her forearm. Those only added up to so many things, in his mind. Setting down his cleaning cloth and order book, Rhett padded quietly over to stand across from where she sat, hands braced on the counter as he leaned closer to her.

"I'm gonna go out onna limb here and guess that water on the floor ain't your biggest problem." His eyes were solemn. "But I'll give you a pass on that for now, seein' as it's pouring out and there's nothing in front of you. I'm a little more worried, Cassidee 'I'm not from around here', as to why you aren't where you are around from." His voice went softer. "And why you are sportin' a bruiser that looks like someone flung you through a wall."