She wanted to crack, wanted to break down and tell him she didn’t mean it, that she wanted him to stay and protect her and make her feel safe again, but she couldn’t. “I wrote it down on the form when I dropped off my car.”
His normally full lips became a thin line. The expression made him seem like a different person—someone hard, someone dangerous.
“Of course you did. I’ll call you when the car is ready.”
And with that he walked past her, back out of the motel room door, toward his truck.
Jenna couldn’t bear to watch him go. With tears flooding her vision and a sob building in her chest, she shut the door. Pressing her back against the wood, she slid down to the floor, put her hands over her eyes, and cried.
Chapter Eight
Eventually, her tears dried and she was left sitting on the floor with the skin of her face tight and her eyes sore.
Jenna glanced down at the mountainous shelf of her breasts, at the double roll of fat around her middle, at the thickness of her thighs. She suppressed a fresh sob. She was disgusting. How could Ryker even find her attractive? He deserved so much better than her. With the way he looked, and even the way he acted, he could have some slim, beauty-pageant girl instead of the big, fat, lumpy person she was. She didn’t understand why he seemed to want to be around her so badly.
I won’t eat, she swore to herself. I’ll just stop eating, and not let anything except water pass my lips—she backpedaled—or coffee, anyway, and then I’ll be thin.
Then she might be worthy of the attention of someone as sweet and sexy as Ryker Russo.
But no, she realized, her heart sinking. Even if she was thin, she’d still be ugly. The red, raised, twisted scar Garrett had gifted her with would still exist. She would still be a woman living on borrowed time with a madman on her heels.
Despite all of her emotions, it was past lunchtime now, and she was hungry.
Fuck it.
What was the point in worrying about her weight anyway, considering everything else she was going through? She’d never have a guy like Ryker. Hell, she’d be lucky to make it through the next few weeks, never mind worry about a future.
Jenna sniffed, wiped her face, and clambered to her feet. She went to the telephone on the desk, dialed reception, and asked for the number to the pizza place on Fore Street that Ryker had recommended. The guy on reception said he’d put her through, so she waited, listening to the ring of the phone until someone picked up.
“Gianni’s,” a bright, female voice chirped.
“Hi, can I place an order, please?”
“Take out or delivery?”
“Delivery. I’m at the Sunshine Motor Lodge in town. Room twelve.”
There was a pause as the girl on the other end typed in her address, then she said, “Sure. What can I get you?”
“I don’t have a menu, but I’d like a meat feast, double cheese, on thin pan, and then a side of chicken wings, and some dips.”
“No problem. Can I get you any drinks or desserts?”
Jenna hated herself even as she said it, “Sure. A bottle of pop, and a tub of ice cream. Chocolate, if you have it.”
“Sure do, ma’am. Is that everything?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll pay cash on delivery.”
“Your order will be with you in about twenty minutes.”
Jenna hung up and went to sit on the bed and wait. Just the thought of the warm, gooey cheese, and the filling pizza base was enough to get her mouth watering. This was her comfort—like being wrapped in a fat soaked, carbohydrate infested hug that would never let her down. Even though she’d only just sworn to herself that she’d get thin, she had nothing else in her life. Nothing else gave her pleasure the way food did. But she was punishing herself as well as trying to make herself feel better. She knew the pizza and ice cream weren’t good for her, but she couldn’t help herself.
Anyway, before the accident, she’d been on every diet around. She jumped on each new fad that emerged and stayed with it for a couple of weeks, and lost a few pounds. Then the bad habits would start creeping in, and soon enough that particular diet would be forgotten, and the pounds she’d lost would pile back on, together with a few more for good measure. The truth was, she just loved good food and wine—hell, it didn’t even need to be that great! Eating meals was one thing she could structure her day around and look forward to. Without them, her life would be even more miserable than it already was.
But you might have Ryker here, a little voice piped up in her head.
No, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t keep blaming everything on her weight. Her life was way more complicated than a few extra pounds.