Mad About You

picture him standing, his broad-shouldered frame dwarfing most of the items around him. Just when she decided her question would have been better left unasked, his warm voice came over the line.
    "Probably the fact that I am crazy about you."
    Pleasure and panic swelled in her chest, both vying for control. "Ladden—"
    "I have something to tell you," he cut in, "and it's going to sound pretty weird." He inhaled and exhaled noisily.
    "What?" she asked, her heart thudding in anticipation.
    "Jasmine," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper, "do you believe in magic?"

Chapter Eight

    LADDEN REGRETTED THE WORDS as soon as they left his mouth. The strange events of the last few hours had been swirling in his head, and he'd felt a sudden impulse to share them with Jasmine. Only now he felt like a fool. How could he tell her about a genie granting him three wishes when two minutes ago, he hadn't believed it himself? She'd think he was a nut for sure.
    "Ladden?"
    "Uh, never mind. I need to go."
    "But what were you going to say about magic?"
    "I have a customer."
    "I thought you were closed today."
    "I'll call you."
    "To let me know about the rug?"
    "Uh, sure."
    "Okay, but... are you all right?"
    Ladden conjured up a forced laugh. "Never better. I'll talk to you later." He hung up with a hand that shook so badly he missed the handset cradle. Pulling himself to his feet, he noted with relief that at least the crowd at the front door had dissipated. He raised the blinds slowly, his mind churning. He had to find the old man with the turban and satisfy himself that all the odd occurrences had reasonable explanations.
    "I'll be laughing about this tomorrow," he promised himself. Nodding with renewed confidence, he turned around—only to find the rug, rolled and standing on end, leaning against the frame of the door that connected the storeroom and showroom.
    "How the hell...?" Either he was losing his mind, or the rug was moving around of its own volition. Advancing toward the rug cautiously, he noticed a single monarch butterfly perched on top, its wings flapping silently.
    Moving in a slow semicircle around the rug, he watched for any sign of movement. "Okay, you, you... thing ," he said, shaking his finger in warning, "you'd better stay put until the lady comes to tell me how much you're worth. If you move again, I swear I'll strap you down—"
    "Ladden?"
    He spun around to see Mrs. Pickney standing just inside the front entrance. "Who are you talking to?"
    A hot flush climbed his neck as he straightened. "No one," he said, with a nervous laugh. "Just talking to myself. I didn't hear the bell."
    "What a lovely rug," she exclaimed, walking over and fingering a corner of the carpet. The spooked butterfly floated toward the ceiling.
    "Yes, it seems to be a favorite."
    "I can see why," she murmured, smoothing her hand over a small section of pile. "It feels... special." A bewildered smile lit her face. "I've never seen anything like it."
    Ladden pursed his lips in thought. Giving the rug to Mrs. Pickney seemed like a small token considering she was deeding him her entire store—and it would prevent the carpet from ending up in the bedroom of Trey McDonald. The thought of Jasmine digging her bare toes into the rug as she rolled out of the other man's bed rankled him. "It's yours if you want it, Mrs. Pickney."
    The rug fell to the floor with a whoosh and a loud thud, startling them both and sending a cloud of dust billowing around their knees.
    "Mine?" she asked, coughing and waving her hand to clear the air. "That's kind of you, son, but I'll be moving to my sister's soon and I won't have room." She grinned. "I got my permit for going out of business. Since my inventory is low anyway, I'll probably be cleaned out within a week or two."
    "Mrs. Pickney, are you sure—"
    "Yes," she said emphatically.
    "I'll miss you."
    She angled her white head at him. "I have a feeling you'll be too occupied with another woman to miss me. I heard about your billboards on the radio. I had no idea you were serious about anyone."
    "Neither did I," he said miserably.
    Her eyes twinkled. "Love sneaks up on you, doesn't it?"
    He glanced back at the rug and frowned. "You could say I'm almost afraid to turn my back."
    "Is it the young lady with the dark ponytail?"
    Ladden winced. "Has it been that obvious?"
    "No." She laughed. "It was a lucky guess. I've seen her come in and out of here quite a bit. I've often thought you'd make a nice couple."
    "Thanks, but