When he was finished he slipped an arm around my shoulders and we headed for the stairs. “So, about that bank balance,” I growled. “What is the scoop? Three mil is a lot of cash.” I wasn’t quite sure why the idea of him being wealthy bothered me. I was just fine with the idea of him being a successful computer programming geek making twenty bucks an hour. “I told you I made good money selling my tech toys and software programs to Uncle Sam,” he grinned. No, I couldn’t see the smile, but I definitely heard it in his tone. “David, a hundred grand a year is good money. A million or more in your account means you make serious money. Good gracious, how much did you sell the program for?” My sweetie was laughing now. “Step up,” he said, automatically when we reached the stairs. “I’ve sold a few things to the government since I got out, and they bought a couple of projects I was working on while I was still enlisted.
