Page 1 of Princess for the Space Cowboy

Chapter One

JANE

“Oooh! I can do that!”

I scroll on my phone screen, eyeing the job description.

Princess wanted for space cowboy in need of a wife. Additional job duties include recruiting other candidates for a matchmaking service on Aphroditea. Due to travel and relocation needs, preferred applicants must be able to move to a new planet. Requirement of no children or family at time of hire.

“Hmm. This has to be a joke, but what the hell? Might be fun to see what happens. I definitely don’t have any kids.”

I’m talking to myself. I’m also seriously tipsy.

You’d be tipsy too if you had my day.

“Hee, hee.” I giggle to myself as I scroll through what has to be the biggest joke of a job advertisement I’ve ever seen.

“What do I have to lose?” I muse. I reach out with my free hand to reflexively pet my cat.

The second my hand lands on my comforter, I almost burst into tears. That’s the thing. My cat died. Creamsicle has been with me since I was ten years old. Since I’m now at the ripe old age of twenty-five, that meant he’d been with me for more than half of my life.

He died in his sleep. My vet said he probably died of heart failure.

“It comes in threes, right?” I murmur to myself.

My ex-fiancé screwed around on me. I found out the next day when I’d gone over to visit my best friend and found them tangled up in bed. Spoiler alert: they weren’t just changing the sheets.

I’m counting that as two bad things because I lost my ex and my now-ex-best friend at once. Those two losses didn’t hurt as bad as losing Creamsicle. Creamsicle had been all I had left of my family.

Pets count as family. I’m one of those people. If you feel like mocking me for it, then screw off. We definitely can’t be friends.

Two years ago, my dad was found dead at his desk at work on the floor in his small hardware store that he’d loved so much. They said he had a massive heart attack. My mom died when she had me. Life had been me, my dad, and eventually Creamsicle, our unit against the world. I knew what it was like to be loved. But it seemed like I was out of luck lately.

So this ad? Some space cowboy needs a princess—what the hell? They also need someone who doesn’t have any attachments on Earth. I’m free with no kids, no family, and no friends.

“Sign me up!” I exclaim as I tap the button to apply.

I scroll through, entering all the things they need. They even ask about my social media handles. They say it a little weird, though, calling it yournews handles. I file that detail away in my brain.

All things considered, the application is pretty simple. The big deal is I have to confirm I’m totally cool with going to space.

“Of course I’m cool with that,” I say as my fingertips tap away on my phone screen.

I figure this whole thing is a big fat joke, but I’ve had a few glasses of wine and don’t have anyone to talk to.

An hour or so later, I drowse into sleep, forgetting about my tipsy job application.

I wake up, rolling out of bed and plodding into the bathroom. I study myself in the mirror. My curly brown hair is a rumpled mess. “I excel at bedhead,” I announce to myself in the mirror.

“I think I had a few too many glasses of wine last night,” I add as I step into the shower.

This is what my life has become—me talking to myself. I don’t remember applying for a job until I’m seated at my desk and my phone pings a few hours later.

I can’t help it. I know better.I really know better.Doom-scrolling through GalaxyCosmo won’t help me. Not at all. But I do it anyway. I keep wondering when freaking Kyle and Kylie will make it official online. Yeah, that’s right. My ex’s name is Kyle, and my ex-best friend's name is Kylie. I used to think it was cute that their names matched and meant something about me. But now they’re together, and I’m alone. I'm pretty sure I missed all the signs until they hit me in the face.

My finger hovers over the screen. Because I want to know when they’re going to have the nerve to post something about their newfound fuck buddy status or relationship. Kylie had left me this long, tearful message about how they fell in love. They couldn’t help it, and it was meant to be, and blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Part of me wants them to post about it. I can’t wait for them to get bashed to bits in the comments.

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