You were finishing your shift at the bookstore when the noise echoed down Main Street. Dashing outside, you found a man in an expensive-looking coat staring helplessly at a car that had somehow hit the only lamppost in town.

“Uh… are you okay?” you called out, half-concerned and half trying to stifle a laugh.

The man turned to you, and wow—he was gorgeous. Tousled brown hair, hazel eyes, and cheekbones so sharp they could cut wrapping paper.

“I’m fine,” he said, though his voice carried the unmistakable panic of someone who was definitely not fine. “But, uh, my car isn’t.”

“Did you not see the giant lamppost in the middle of the street?” you asked.

“It was the snow,” he mumbled. “I’m… not used to driving in these conditions.”

“You don’t say… let me guess—you’re from the city?”

“Something like that,” he said, tugging his scarf.

“Well, welcome to Pine Grove, where car repairs take three days minimum.”

He looked at his wrecked car and sighed. “Three days? But I can’t—I mean, I have to—”

“You can stay in the guest cabin behind my house,” you offered. “It beats sleeping in your car.”

His name, he said, was Spencer. Just Spencer. He was vague about why he was in town, but you didn’t press. You did, however, notice how incapable he was of doing normal things.

“Seriously?” you asked, watching him stare at the microwave like it might explode.

“I usually eat out,” he muttered.

Despite his quirks, he grew on you. He decorated the tree badly, tasted your questionable hot cocoa, and even helped you with the Christmas festival.

But that evening, it all came crashing down.

The town festival was in full swing when a girl pointed at Spencer. “Oh my God, it’s him!”

You froze as she shoved her phone toward her friend. “See? Spencer Reid, Crown Prince of Lannovia!”

You turned to him, heart pounding. “Is this true?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I was going to tell you, I swear—”

“When?!” you snapped. “After you left?”

“I wanted to be normal,” he pleaded. “To have someone like me for me, not for my title.”