Chapter 13Sartre sighed. He couldn’t remember the last time he relaxed in a bath. Somehow Madsen was able to pull the ingredients needed to create an Epsom salt soak. He wasn’t sure how he lucked out that Madsen even drew his bath for him. He should’ve been focused on catching up with his brother and sister-in-law.
The door to the room swung open. “Brought you fresh towels.” Madsen threw them over the divider that provided Sartre privacy.
Sartre shook his head. “You don’t have to wait on me.”
“You don’t want to be waited on hand and foot?” Madsen drawled out the last word with a smile in his voice.
“That was a horrible pun,” Sartre said, trying to stifle a laugh, but failing as a muffled chuckle let out. “I’m a grown man, who can take care of himself.”
“I have no doubt about that.” Ma
