Page 117 of The Pucking Wrong Rookie

“Alcohol!” I all but screamed as Camden gave me an amused look over his shoulder.

“I thought you said you shouldn’t be drunk for this?” Lincoln asked casually. I growled. Of course, it had to be Lincoln who said that. And, of course, it made me straighten up.

“Just do it,” I snarled.

“How ya doing over there, Rookie?” Ari asked, taking a swig of his beer without offering me any because he was an asshole.

“Just dandy, Lancaster. Never knew a needle shooting ink into mystickcould feel this good.”

Ari snorted, and the tattoo artist guy twitched, his face growing uneasy. He obviously hadn’t gotten my sarcasm.

“Which one of them did this to you?” he finally muttered, gesturing to the red lipstick stain design he’d transferred on my skin to trace. His cheeks were bright pink.

“None of them did that to me,” I snapped indignantly. “That’s from my future wife!”

He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I believe you.”

He definitely did not believe me.

The needle touching my dick again made me flinch.

“No moving,” he said, and it was all I could do not to punch him. But then I’d just have a weird red outline on my dick, and Sloane wouldn’t thinkthatwas hot. I needed the whole shading effect to really impress her.

Camden appeared next to me with a shot glass. “Here you go,” he said.

I yanked it out of his hand and threw it back, the burn hitting me just right. “Just for that, I’m not going to call you Grandpappy anymore,” I told him seriously.

“Really?” Camden asked suspiciously, raising an eyebrow.

“At least, not for a day,” I amended, because it was important to tell the truth. I wasn’t going to give up the years of happiness I’d get from calling him that for one shot.

All right, judging by my train of thoughts, the alcohol was already kicking in again.

“You really aren’t supposed to drink,” the tattoo artist grumbled. So, I took another shot just to spite him and myself. Because I obviously couldn’t be trusted to make good decisions under peer pressure when I was drunk.

I only cried one tear during the process, something that Lancaster only mocked me…a little.

“All right, done. Hopefully your…girl…likes that.”

“Why do you keep sayinggirllike that? Itisfor a girl.”

He shook his head. “Of course it is,” he answered soothingly, like I was crazy for saying it. “Now you said something about a butterfly? Is that also on a dick?” He winced when he said it, and Ari snorted.

“This is the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had,” the artist mumbled under his breath.

Camden sat on the table and lifted his shirt. “Let’s do it right on this shoulder blade,” he told him, practically beaming as he pointed it out.

“It needs to look like this,” Lincoln added, pulling up his shirt and revealing the giant butterfly tattoo that stretched across his entire chest and down to his abdomen.

The tattoo artist’s eyes bounced from Lincoln’s chest, to Camden’s back…then to me. “Are you sure this isn’t a weird sex thing?”

I glanced at Lincoln—just to make sure I was allowed to answer. This was secret COT stuff after all.

Lincoln shook his head as he took another draw from the bottle of tequila he’d procured from…who knows where.

“Not a weird sex thing,” I confirmed. “I’m allowed to get it…right?” I asked Lincoln.

Ari waved his hand in front of Lincoln’s face. “Don’t look at him. Look at me. What if I said no?”

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