Page 2 of Spring Break with a Billionaire

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Cricket

The tiny cottage sits nestled among palm trees, weathered pale-blue paint peeling charmingly from the siding. The whole scene is picture-perfect, like something from a postcard. I pause next to Abby, my best friend since forever, breathing in the salty breeze that stirs my hair. Already, I feel the relaxation creeping into my bones, a welcome release from months of teaching second-graders how to sit still and listen.

“Wow.” Abby lets out a happy sigh, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun. “This is exactly what we needed.”

I smile and nod, unable to argue. “It’s adorable.”

Abby bumps my shoulder playfully. “Just think—a whole week of no alarm clocks, no grading papers, and no kids asking why the sky is blue.”

We laugh, and I adjust my sunglasses, feeling genuinely excited. “Sounds like heaven.”

“It is.” Abby leads the way up the sandy walkway, unlocking the front door with an exaggerated flourish. “Welcome to our temporary escape from reality.”

I step inside and instantly fall in love. The cottage is cozy and bright, with whitewashed walls, pastel accents, and oversized windows that frame perfect beach views. A breeze blows gently through sheer curtains, carrying the scent of salt and ocean with it.

“This is perfect.” I spin slowly, absorbing every charming detail—the weathered furniture, nautical décor, the bookshelves stocked with worn paperbacks. Someone put thought into making guests feel at home.

Abby drops onto the overstuffed couch, her legs draping comfortably over the armrest. “Okay, rules for this trip. Number one: no worrying about work. Number two: we eat whatever we want, no counting calories. And number three—”

“No falling for charming vacationers,” I interrupt, finishing the sentence for her with a firm nod. This isn’t the first time she’s gone over the rules. “Got it.”

Abby grins, giving me a pointed look. “Exactly. We’re here for us, not to end up with spring break heartbreak.”

I laugh softly, moving to peer out the window toward the beach, where the waves crash rhythmically onto the shore. A group of surfers floats idly, waiting patiently for the next swell. It’s easy to imagine spending the entire week lounging in the sun, ignoring anything remotely complicated.

“I’m serious, Cricket,” Abby adds gently. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with anyone here. It’s a fling-free zone.”

I glance back at her, amused by the worry in her eyes. She means well, and it’s not like I haven’t done exactly what she’s saying before. Our senior trip to Cozumel is not something I want to repeat. “Trust me, Abby, love is the last thing on my mind. I’m here to read books, relax, and forget about anything resembling romance except for what I find between the pages.”

Abby raises her eyebrows skeptically. “Famous last words.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “It’s only one week. How much trouble could I possibly get into?”

She laughs outright. “Oh, you want a list?”

“Fine.” I hold up my hands in surrender, laughing softly. “No falling in love, no charming strangers, no trouble.”

She gives a satisfied nod. “Perfect.”

We spend the next half-hour unpacking quickly, filling the cottage with our familiar clutter—bikinis, sunscreen, stacks of novels we’ve been meaning to read all year. The more we settle in, the more relaxed I feel. Abby cranks open the windows wider, letting the breeze flow freely through every room. Soon, the whole cottage smells like salt, sun, and freedom.

“Should we explore a little?” Abby suggests, adjusting her floppy beach hat in the mirror. “Find a cute café or something?”

I nod eagerly. “Definitely.”

Outside, we walk barefoot down the sandy path toward town, the warmth of the sun seeping into my skin. Everything feels soft here, slower than Star Mountain. My life back home is full of teaching, planning, and other responsibilities.

It’s exactly what I need, a simple, uncomplicated week with zero expectations. I’m not searching for love or even romance. I’ve learned the hard way that vacation romance rarely survives beyond the trip, and I refuse to set myself up for disappointment. My heart needs rest as much as my body and mind.

Abby stops at the corner, scanning a signpost marked with hand-painted arrows. “Hmm. Coffee or ice cream first?”

I grin, considering our choices seriously. “Both?”

She nods, matching my enthusiasm. “Both.”

As we stroll through Love Beach’s charming downtown, I let myself truly relax, my heart rate slowing to match the gentle rhythm of this seaside escape. The entire vibe is charming and unpretentious—colorful storefronts, quirky beach-themed décor, and smiling locals waving from open windows. It feels like stepping into a movie, a magical place where nothing bad ever happens.

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