Page 3 of Princess for the Space Cowboy

I adjust my skirt, looking down at my feet in the elevator. I think I’m dressed professionally but attractively. That’s a seriously fine line to walk. I’m wearing a powderpuff pink skirt that falls to my knees and flares slightly. Atop that is a cotton blouse with nice lines that smooths over my hips. I only hope I don’t sweat too much by the time I get into this interview.

For over a century, humans have traveled to space. Yet it’s mostly limited to those with the money to pay for the travel. The opportunity for a job off of Earth is unusual. Things aren’t exactly great around here. Of course, there’s my own life, which sucks, plus the baking-hot earth and being a woman. Plenty of men on earth hate women. They openly grouse about how awful we all are even though they hate us, so why should they care?

They still can’t quite figure out why anyone would want to be with them. That’s not even a rhetorical question.

I’d thought myself lucky to find Kyle. But now I’d lost him and my not-friend in one swoop.

The elevator chimes when it reaches the right floor. The musical chime sets my pulse to racing. I smooth my hands over my skirt, once again adjusting my purse over my shoulder as I step out and stride briskly down the hallway. I tend to walkfast when I’m nervous. Suite 7 on floor seven. I’m taking the repetition of numbers as a lucky sign.

I step into the quiet lobby to find a woman seated at the desk. She appears mostly human. I can’t help but wonder, though. Rumor has it humans have crossbred with aliens on other planets for centuries.

She smiles at me. “Can I help you?” Her voice is melodic and low.

Her hair is pulled back tightly and twisted into a braid spun into a tidy bun high on her head.

“I’m here for an interview,” I say as I stop in front of the desk.

“Oh yes!” Her eyes brighten, and her smile widens. “You must be Jane.” At my nod, she straightens her shoulders. “Excellent. I’m Helena. Have a seat. I will let him know you’re here.”

“Him?” I think to myself as I sit down in the only chair available.

I still wonder if this was really a joke. It was listed as an interview for a princess. It also said they were looking for someone skilled with matching people. Except for myself, I’m great at matchmaking. Even my ex-bestie ended up with my ex. I could even say I brought them together. We used to joke that they matched. Ha!

I’d also found halfway decent guys for some friends at work. I’m hoping my matchmaking skills will be my ticket. Because the princess part has to be a joke.

I’m getting all tangled up in my thoughts and nervous as hell. I pull out my phone and reread the ad. I’d even saved my application, where I had, in my tipsy state, said, “I’ve always wanted to be a princess. I think I’m uniquely qualified. For starters, I love pink.”

O.M.F.G.

“Jane?” the woman calls.

I look up. “Yes?” I stand quickly and slip my phone into my purse.

“Come on back.” She rounds her desk, which is really just one of those folding plastic tables. It’s a little old and battered, to be honest, but there are tons of them around. Since Earth started baking like a furnace, we’ve stopped producing many materials and now recycle many things. Those folding plastic desks are indestructible.

Helena leads me through a doorway and down a short hallway. I can’t help but notice that we pass three offices, and all of them are empty. I have no idea what to think of that. I’m starting to wonder if my tipsy job application is some kind of scam.

Who would be hiring a princess anyway?

Seconds later, she stops by a doorway and opens it. “Here we are.”

I step into the office to discover an imposing man there. Helena glances from me to him. “This is Asher. He’ll be conducting your interview.”

In a blink, she disappears, closing the door with a decisive click behind her.

Asher stands from where he’s seated at a table. Two chairs are positioned on either side of a small round table with a pitcher of water and two glasses.

When I finally take a good look at him, my lungs seize, and I can barely breathe. He’sreallytall. I’m decidedly medium height, maybe five feet six inches if I stretch to my tallest.

This Asher guy has to be at least a foot and a half taller than me. My eyes wander. His features are… well, the only word that comes to mind is fierce, which feels ridiculous, but it’s accurate. His eyes are a bright starlight blue. His deeply bronzed skin almost shimmers under the dull glow of the fluorescent lights.As I study him, I conclude he isn’t fully human. I wouldn’t say he has scales, but he sort of does.

His eyes roam boldly over me, and I can practically feel the heat of his gaze like licks of fire on my skin.

“Jane,” he finally says with a dip of his chin. His cheekbones are angled sharply down to a firm and well-defined mouth. He takes a step, turning to gesture toward a chair. It’s only then I realize he has something like a tail.

When I step closer, my body feels electric, the sensation running like a current through me. This man arouses me intensely. I can feel the moisture between my thighs.

Whoa.

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