NINE
“You have to press harder than that,” Turner said, standing behind her.
“You said it was like filing my nails,” Poppy said, pushing the sandpaper across the surface of the wood he’d just let her cut. “I don’t press harder than this when I do that.”
Well, sort of let her cut. The circular saw was heavy… and scary. It was so loud and she couldn’t help but be hyperaware of the lethal blade zipping around at a zillion miles an hour. Still, he’d put a hand over hers and let her think that she was actually in control of the monster.
“We’ll be here for hours if you keep doing it like that. Stop being so gentle.”
“It needs a little love,” she said over her shoulder, the safety glasses slipping down her nose a little.
His hand landed on hers again and he began to push and direct the sand
