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into a lively commercial jingle that pounded through Faith’s head with the fury of one of Ricky’s Metallica CDs.
    Groping for the mute button on her remote control, she turned over to snuggle into one sofa pillow. Grubby stirred next to her and she stroked his back, lulling him back to sleep with the gentle motion. As she sank back into oblivion, the crash of metal yanked her back to reality.
    Grubby started to bark. She rolled onto her back and forced her eyes open. The bright morning sun streamed through her living room windows. The blinds … Why had she left the blinds open last night?
    For the same reason she’d left the television set blaring, her plastic TV dinner tray in the middle of the coffee table, and a load of clean, unfolded laundry piled on one end of the couch. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to care—
    The thought ground to a halt at the sound of garbage cans being manipulated on her back porch.
    Shielding her eyes with one hand, she glanced at the clock that ticked away, keeping tempo with the heavy-metal drum solo beating away inside her skull. Six A.M. The neighborhood delinquentscouldn’t even wait for a decent hour to start vandalizing her property.
    Now she had to buy another set of trash cans—
    But she had no trash cans, she quickly remembered as yesterday’s scene replayed in her head. She crawled from the couch, pulled her T-shirt down over her bare midriff, and wondered what the little devils could be after this time. She kept nothing on her back porch except a couple of wrought-iron chairs and a small table. Surely they weren’t trying to make off with her half-rusted patio furniture.
    Shoving the curtains aside, she stared out at her back porch. The lid of one shiny new trash can caught the sun’s rays and blinded her for a split second. Then a shadow obliterated the light. The sound of clanging metal resumed, along with a steady grinding and a slight tremble of the door frame.
    “What in the world are you doing?” she asked as she threw open the back door. She stared through the burglar bars at Jesse Savage, who was stooped on her back porch, a drill in one hand, a small metal chain in the other.
    He tilted his face toward her. His lips hinted at a grin. “Making sure these cans don’t get ripped off again. You did say that was a problem, didn’t you? Your cans getting stolen?”
    “Well, yes, but …” She stared at the shiny new cans. “These aren’t mine. The new ones I bought last week were ripped off yesterday.” Her gaze traveled past him, toward the stone steps and her small backyard. Not a piece of trash littered the dew-covered grass, as if the chaos she’d seen yesterday had never existed.
    “And whoever ripped them off made one helluva mess.”
    “I know.” Her gaze met his. “You cleaned all of it up,” she said accusingly.
    He touched his heart in an overly dramatic gesture. “Your gratitude is overwhelming.”
    “I’m sorry, I guess I’m just used to cleaning up my own trash. I should have said thanks.”
    His grin turned into a full-fledged smile—a smile that warmed her a great deal more than the morning sun that showered the porch and outlined Jesse’s powerful frame. Without the rain making him hunch down, he looked larger, his shoulders broader in the faded sleeveless sweatshirt he now wore. The worn jeans still clung to his thighs, outlining the bunched muscles as he knelt.
    He indicated the white trash bag beside him. “I also brought over a couple of new cans.”
    She shook her head. “But how did you know mine were stolen yesterday?”
    “Actually, I just came by this morning to secure the ones you already had to the wall here.” He tugged on the small chain that ran from the door frame to the bottom of one can. “Makes them much harder to swipe if they’re attached. When I got here, I saw yours were missing, so I went back to Faith’s House, and Bradley let me have a couple of extra cans. Thought I’d save you the trouble of